Once a Street Rat
by Lawi01
Summary: From street rat to servant to adopted princess to successful undercover thief, Aisha's luck seemed endless. The sleek black lamp in her posession seems like a dream come true, but what happens when her luck is sucked in as the genie is sucked out?
1. Prologue

**A/N: ASDJASHAJSA HFJKSAH I HAVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS FOR AGES :O ..**

**I wasn't actually going to start this until I had finished **_**The Revenge is Hers**_**, but I can handle two stories at once and I've already got two chapters written X] But don't expect too many updates for a while, exams are taking over my life :/**

**A note on time: set after the first movie, because I really didn't like the other two. So basically **_**Return of Jafar **_**and **_**King of Thieves **_**never happens, but Aladdin and Jasmine are married. Just so we're clear.**

**A lot of Aladdin/Jasmine moments in here too. Sorry. I just love them so freaking much 3**

**I don't own Aladdin, but Aisha is mine :)**

Aisha's lungs burned with the fire that could only be summoned by long, hard running. Her little legs pumped as hard as they could and her bare feet slipped in the dirt. Her shawl fell over her face and she brushed it away impatiently, sweat coming away on the palm of her hand. She clutched the little red apple in her hand as though it were the only thing she had left to her- which it was.

She skidded around a corner, kicking up a cloud of dust as she slid in the dirt. She heard the guards yelling behind her, felt their coming footsteps vibrate in the ground beneath her little feet. She ran forward blindly, panting desperately for air, head down-

_Wall_.

With a shriek Aisha fell back on her backside, head throbbing. She turned in the dirt and shuffled madly against the wall that had so rudely interrupted her progress, brown eyes wide as the shadows of the big burly guards rose over her. She held her apple close to her heart, the glint of the sword in the sunlight reflecting in her eyes as one of the guards raised it high over his head.

"Such nice little hands," he purred venomously. "Rest assured they'll have a nice spot on my shelf, street rat."

Aisha squeezed her eyes shut and raised her arm over her head, curling up into a ball and waiting to feel the swish of cold silver slicing through her wrists, waited to feel the flesh part and the bone splinter, to feel her dirty little hands roll away in the dirty little street-

"Stop! Hey- get out of the way- _stop_, you idiot!"

The sounds of general surprise and discomfort reached Aisha's ears and as the seconds passed, she came to realize she still had both hands. She peered out cautiously over the brown sleeve of her dirty long-sleeved dress, and saw that a new shadow had joined the group. Whoever it was held the wrist of the guard with the sword firmly. The sun shone harshly from behind him and Aisha couldn't see her saviour's face, but judging from the quality of the fine horse he sat upon and the vague silhouette of the clothes she could make out, he must have been very rich.

Aisha's eyebrows furrowed. What on earth was a rich man doing saving a street rat?

"Leave her alone," The rich man snapped, throwing the guard's arm down in apparent disgust. "She's just a little girl, I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

The guard sneered. "A street rat, _Your Highness_," he sneered, dipping low in a mock bow. Aisha paused; royalty? Or perhaps it was just a joke. It didn't take an educated child to tell that there was disdain and sarcasm in the guard's voice as he spoke. "And a-"

"Thief, yes, I heard," the man replied, speaking with equal distaste. "It is obviously a fault of the kingdom if a child is reduced to stealing out of lack of money."

"She is an evil little rat and deserves to lose her hands, as all thieves must," the guard spat, raising his sword again.

"Oh, for Allah's sake, put it down," the man snapped, snatching the sword away. "She's just a child. She's just trying to survive. And if any harm should come to her mark my words I will have a word with the Sultan, who I happen to know is not quite so hard on the poor of Agrabah as you are."

Aisha wrinkled her nose. You wouldn't think the Sultan was so fond of street rats judging from the situation she was currently in. Then again, it was probably all for image. If this really was a member of the royal family, not just some decoy sent out to get a good reputation with the people. Everyone knew that rich people just sat and looked pretty in the lap of expensive luxury, appealing to the masses to keep their popularity up when they could be bothered to get off their fat, well-fed behinds.

The guard and the man had a stare-off for a few more moments before the man spoke again, not breaking eye contact.

"Get out."

The lead guard glared for a few moments before reaching up and snatching his sword back. There was much grumbling and sheathing of swords as the guards reluctantly moved away, muttering darkly amongst themselves. Aisha watched them go and felt her heart fly with relief; the sensation quickly drained away when the rich man slid down easily from his saddle. Ignoring the self-loathing that bubbled in her heart as she did so, Aisha flung herself upon the dirt at his feet. If she worshiped him, boosted his self-esteem and convinced him of her eternal gratitude a little, he would probably let her go back to her penniless life.

"O, my Lord!" she cried, spitting out dirt as she did so. "I cannot tell you how deeply indebted I am to your courageous interference, how eternally grateful I am for your courteous-"

She paused when she heard no bashful acceptance of the many false traits Aisha attributed him with and looked up to see someone who simply could _not _be member of the royal family standing before her, brushing off an expensive-looking poufy white turban and adjusting a little red fez on his messy black hair. He smiled down at her, white teeth glinting in the midst of his brown face. His eyes were warm and soft, though Aisha hardly imagined there was any true feeling behind those eyes. Rich people were so very deceitful.

"It's really silly how they make us wear these," he said conversationally, holding out the turban. "It's too hot here for them. I've got to, though, because they don't take me seriously otherwise."

There was a quiet chittering and in a blur of brown movement a very well-dressed monkey was perched on the shoulder of the man who could not belong to the royal family's shoulder, squeaking indignantly. The man laughed.

"They don't like Abu, either," he continued, stroking the little monkey's back absently as he did so.

Aisha sat up against the wall again, tossing the apple up and down in her hand. "Why did you save me?" she demanded cynically.

The man shrugged. "Because it's the right thing to do," he replied simply. "No little kid deserves to be chased or hurt like that."

Aisha's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"

The man paused and considered her for a moment. "The comfort of knowing I'll sleep properly tonight knowing I spared your life?" he suggested. "Is it really so hard for you to say thank-you?"

"Why won't they take you seriously?" Aisha continued. "Who are you, exactly?"

The man scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, technically speaking I'm a prince," he explained. "_The _prince. Of Agrabah, you know. But before that I was just a street rat-"

Aisha snorted in disbelief. "Sorry, but I'm not _completely _stupid. No pity story you tell me is going to fool me."

"It's true!" he cried. "Abu and I were thieves but I managed to woo the princess and the Sultan changed the law so I would be able to marry her. That's why people don't like me much; they don't like the idea of a street rat ruling the city. I thought everyone in Agrabah knew that. It's caused a lot of a stir over the years…"

"People don't talk to me much," Aisha shrugged. "You know, because I'm a street rat. I'm bound to get someone into trouble they don't want. And I have fleas," she added.

The man's eyebrows furrowed. "Who said you have fleas? You don't look like you have fleas."

"Well, you know, I'm just a smelly street-rat, so I don't know anything. Everyone else is _always _right." Aisha nodded vigorously. If there was nothing else she had learnt from her years on the streets of Agrabah, it was that grown-ups were always right, and she was just a brainless street rat who should do what she was told.

The man made an unhappy noise. "Well, I could probably tell them a thing or two," he said. The monkey on his shoulder- Abu, was that what it was called?- made a violent gesture. Aisha had to giggle.

The prince smiled warmly and offered a hand. Aisha looked at it uncertainly, shying back against the wall. Her hand slid into her shawl and she hid her apple again. She wasn't going to give it to him- she had gone through a lot of trouble for that apple.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her. Abu rolled his eyes and snorted, squeaking something that sounded oddly like 'here we go again'.

Aisha looked at his hand for a few more moments, torn with indecision. He _had _saved her life, that was true… But if he was telling the truth, and he was rich, he might well just be luring her back to the palace dungeons. Or he might not be a prince at all. But as she looked into those deep brown eyes, she couldn't help but feel herself lulled into a deep sense of security. She felt safer with him than she did anywhere else. So after a few moments she nodded shyly and took his big hand with her small hand- the hand that he had saved. He beamed and swung her up onto the horse with ease. With a sigh, he then re-adjusted his turban and hauled himself up.

"Gotta prove you're important," he said in explanation. "Otherwise you never get through traffic. My name's Aladdin, by the way."

Aisha just nodded feebly and held on, wondering what was going to happen to her now. "Aisha," she croaked back meekly. "Nice to meet you."

xXx

The palace was _very _nice.

Shiny floors, nice cushions, fantastic views and food _everywhere_. As they stepped into the entrance hall after returning the horse to the stables, Aisha could scarcely believe her eyes. She kept away from the food out of politeness' sake but munched quietly on her apple, pretending that the sight of the other stacked piles of food didn't drive her absolutely crazy with longing. The food, at least, kept her mind off the space. She didn't like big spaces; too many areas for undercover guards to be without her realising. She preferred small places, usually ones where only one person could fit- _her._

Prince Aladdin lead her through the squeaky clean corridors, Abu swinging from whatever he could and staring at Aisha as much as she stared at him. She had never seen monkeys this close before; they usually threw old food at her before she got close. Of course, people did that too. Did that make monkeys and people the same? It could be possible. Maybe they were distant relatives…

"Al!" A woman's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the palace. The _palace. _Today was an extraordinary day… A street rat, in the palace! Of course, if Aladdin's story was true it wouldn't be the first time…

"Where have you been?" The woman behind the voice stepped out from behind a pillar. Aisha stopped and gawked, her apple slipping from her hand. She was _gorgeous. _Her brown almond-shaped eyes glinted warmly in the Agrabah sun. Her smooth, dark limbs moved gracefully and her long black hair swung behind her with every movement. She was dressed expensively in blue clothes that rippled in the air. A tiger loped along beside her, amber eyes absorbing every tiny movement.

Aisha shuffled uncomfortably. Aladdin had seemed carefully- perhaps even deceptively- humble and had brought her to believe she was safe, that she belonged. Now, as she faced the princess, she was painfully aware of her knotted, scraggly hair and her dirty skin and her filthy saggy shawl. She unconsciously sidled closer to Aladdin but he had stepped forward with new gusto, leaving Aisha alone in the open.

"Hello, princess," Aladdin winked, casually looping an arm around her bare waist. She chuckled quietly and pecked his cheek. "This is Aisha," he continued, gesturing grandly at Aisha as she stood like some sort of stupefied camel.

The princess' eyes settled on Aisha and she forced her trembling legs into a curtsy. "An honour," she mumbled to her dirty bare feet. "Your Highness," she added as a hasty afterthought.

As Aisha stood straight again the princess smiled beautifully, her teeth pearly white. "It's very nice to meet you, Aisha," she said kindly. "Please, just call me Jasmine. This is Rajah." She scratched the majestic tiger behind the ears; it shivered with unconcealed delight. "I suppose Al saved you from some sort of thief gang?"

"The guards," Aisha mumbled, staring intently at her feet. They looked so out of place on the sparkling palace floor. What would a princess as gorgeous as Jasmine want with a thieving street rat like her? She might as well leave the palace right now and save herself the trouble of being thrown out once she confessed to her crimes. "I stole an apple."

Aisha waited for the guards to swoop in and grab her and toss her carelessly out of the window, but instead, much to her surprise, Princess Jasmine laughed. Aisha's head snapped up in surprise.

"A crime if not for which Aladdin and I would never have met," she smiled. Aladdin flushed slightly and averted his eyes, as though embarrassed. Aisha lowered her eyes and the sense that she was an intruder intensified.

"Has she met Genie?" Jasmine asked suddenly, snapping Aladdin and Aisha out of their trances. "I'm sure he'd like her."

"Genie?" Aisha repeated, her voice high and strangled with fear. She had heard a lot about genies and how much they liked the taste of human flesh. Was this her punishment? Had Aladdin lured her here so she could be devoured by a mythical monster? "But genies don't exist."

Aladdin opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by an almighty cry and suddenly a massive staring eye appeared in the air beyond the balcony.

"That is _so _offensive!" the voice cried.

Aisha screamed and hid behind a pillar, pulling her shawl over her eyes and whispering as many prayers to Allah that sprang to her mind at that moment.

"Aisha?" she heard Aladdin's concerned voice from the other side of the pillar. Aisha's pumping heart constricted with hate- he was probably just making sure she wasn't already dead so the monster outside could eat her alive and feel her wriggle down his throat… "Aisha, are you alright?"

And despite everything… His concerned tone sounded genuine and Aisha was lulled into that heavy sense of security again. Being a six-year-old street rat, it was very easy to be lulled into a sense of security by anything that wasn't small and dirty.

"B-b-b-big b-blue m-m-m-monster," Aisha managed through trembling lips. Her voice was quiet; the words were intended only for Aladdin's ears. "Go-gonna e-eat m-me."

A little blue dog appeared beside her, big eyes looking up at her beseechingly. Aisha had never seen a blue dog before; she shied away uncertainly. It padded closer towards her, floppy ears drooping in a pathetically cute sort of way.

"I'm not a monster," the dog said, startling Aisha even more. It spoke with the same voice that had cried out before, but on a thankfully quieter scale. "And I won't eat you."

"But you're a genie," Aisha said stubbornly. "Genies eat people."

"Not me," the dog said proudly. As it spoke, it morphed into a blue man with a twirly black goatee and a broad chest. He had no legs: from the waist down, there was only a swirling spiral of blue smoke. Aisha blinked in surprise.

"So if you're not going to eat me," she said slowly. "What are you going to do to me?"

The genie beamed. "Once upon a time, I would have granted you three wishes-"

Aisha's face lit up. "Three wishes? You'd do that?"

The genie's grin widened. "Not anymore," he said gleefully. "I was freed from servitude a few years ago. I don't have any obligations to anyone anymore."

Aisha's eyebrows furrowed. "What idiot set you free? They'd have to be pretty silly to let something as amazing as a genie that would grant you three wishes free."

The genie flushed bashfully. "Too kind, darling, too kind," he said in an accent Aisha did not recognize.

Aladdin cleared his throat awkwardly from the other side of the pillar. Jasmine giggled. "Um, actually, that idiot would be me."

The blood drained from Aisha's face and she scampered out from behind the pillar, on her knees once again. She had only just opened her mouth to gush her apologies when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Don't worry about it," Aladdin said kindly. "Do you want a bath?"

Aisha stood and pretended to think about it. "Well… If it's not too much trouble," she said humbly.

Aladdin snorted and waved a hand. "Of course not. We'll get you some better clothes too, you must get freezing at night."

"Do you mind if I stay for dinner?" The words were out before Aisha could stop them. She blushed and curtseyed, staring at her feet to hide her red cheeks. "I mean, only if you want me to-"

"That'd be lovely," Jasmine and Aladdin said together. Aisha looked up and saw two warm smiles on both of their warm faces as they stood, arm-in-arm.

She couldn't help but smile back.

xXx

"So… you really didn't need for Genie to make you a prince after all," Aisha said around a mouthful, gesturing at Aladdin with a loaf of bread.

The prince blinked. "What?"

Aisha shrugged. "Well, Jasmine already loved you," she said simply. "So if you'd somehow gotten word to her that you were alive and met up again sometime it probably would have had the same outcome, with a few differences."

She saw Aladdin blush and look down at his food. Jasmine smiled and her hand rested on his. Aisha busied herself with eating again; moments like this were recurring, and as sweet as they were they also made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Still, she couldn't quite resent them for it: they had, after all, taken her in, clothed her, bathed her and now they fed her. If Aisha had parents, this would certainly be something she would run home and tell them all about. Then again, if she had parents this probably wouldn't have happened at all.

"What would you wish for, Aisha?" Aladdin asked suddenly. Her head snapped up.

"That's easy," she said immediately. "Money."

"Just money?"

Aisha nodded. "Just money. You can do anything with money: get the next camel train out of here, buy as much food as you want, get a proper house, get some nice clothes…" Aisha paused. "Except a family. That would be a pretty good wish to make."

The room fell silent. Jasmine and Aladdin exchanged a look and Aisha prodded at the food on her plate some more. Hand-in-hand with Aladdin, Jasmine turned to Aisha and opened her mouth to speak-

"But I don't suppose you want to hear anything about that," Aisha said, not noticing the princess' apparent wish to speak. She set her knife and fork down politely and pushed her chair back. "I'm just a street rat, after all. Thank you so much for everything you've done. I won't trouble you anymore."

Aisha hopped down and began to leave. Jasmine stared after her. "Aisha-"

The six-year-old turned, eyes questioningly wide. "Yes?"

Jasmine faltered and Aladdin took over. "Would you like me to take you back to your home? We can go on Carpet."

In between getting new clothes fitted, having a bath and eating the best dinner she had had in a long time, Aisha had found the time to get herself acquainted with Genie, Rajah and Abu- as well as seeing a brief demonstration on the magic carpet Aladdin and Jasmine owned. She had secretly been dying to have a god ever since. She nodded eagerly and danced out of the dining hall. Standing in the doorway, she turned and saw Aladdin and Jasmine with her heads pressed together, hand-in-hand. Aladdin was saying something, and Jasmine nodded, looking sad. Aladdin kissed her forehead.

A big blue hand rested on her shoulder; she jumped and turned to see Genie smiling down at her kindly. She smiled shyly back.

"It's a special moment," he said quietly. "You get used to them after a while."

Aisha nodded and followed Genie out into the courtyard, where she waited. As she sat on the rim of the fountain, listening to the sound of the falling water and the snoring Abu, she marvelled at just how incredible today had turned out to be.

If she had known how much those few hours would change her life, she probably would have thought 'incredible' the most insufficient word possible.

xXx

Aisha woke the next morning in comfort, because her clothes were clean, she was clean, her stomach was full and there was a rather pleasant scent floating around her little hideout. She rolled over in her pile of mostly stolen sheets, a smile on her face. She lay there for a few more minutes before sitting up, slipping her shawl off her head and running a hand through her long, thick black hair with a yawn. She stood and peered around the limp drape that she hung in front of the hole that served as a door, blinking blearily in the early Agrabah sun. That scent hung in the air, intoxicatingly sweet…

Aisha looked down. There, at her feet in the dust, was a golden bowl filled with fruit. Fruit, she thought, fit for a prince.


	2. Part One Chapter One

Of course, times change.

Once upon a time, Aisha was a confused, six-year-old street rat, marvelling at her luck of being invited into the palace for a day by the prince and princess of Agrabah. Then she was the most privileged street rat in the city, benefiting from food and constant visits to the palace and from royalty. Then she was a seven-year-old kitchen servant, the youngest and again most privileged of the staff. And then she was a nine-year-old adopted princess, the luckiest street rat to have ever walked the streets of Agrabah.

And now… well, _now _she was holding a sword between her teeth and sliding down a rope at high speeds, a big bag of gold hanging off her back.

She bent her legs as she drew near to the ground and met the dirt silently. She looked around cautiously, her brown eyes the only part of her face visible from beneath an old shawl and a scrap of cloth tied around her mouth. She was dressed in black and looked as masculine as was possible for an eighteen year old princess. Satisfied, she crept away into the shadows, the treasures on her back clinking softly as she moved. She walked on tiptoe, not daring to make a sound. The city of Agrabah was asleep, but four men eagerly awaited her return not so far away, and she knew full well the penalty she would suffer if she failed to deliver. Being a leader didn't make the punishments any lighter.

Still, even the great make mistakes. With an almighty rip, the sack over her shoulder tore and with more noise than was probably necessary the gold flowed forth. With a hiss and a curse, Aisha stooped to scoop it all back in her arms again before anyone could come to investigate, but it was too late. A head appeared from a window high above her; a shrill voice cried out to the city, alerting them to the presence of the filthy thief cursing and muttering as he tore away into the night, gold glistening in his arms as he ran away.

The guards were close at hand. Aisha cursed again: she knew she hadn't shaken them off properly before. Keeping close to the shadows and the gold close to her chest, she scampered through the remotest routes she knew, taking as many detours as she could think of. There were already several pre-planned escape routes for situations like these, but all of those routes required that her hands were free. The ripping of the sack had been an unexpected drawback; now she had to go the long way around, on foot and praying that she would not be followed.

Too late. They were around the corner. She could hear their gasps for breaths and the clink of their swords. She rolled her eyes in frustration: of all the people to be cornered by, it had to be rookies. No idiot would run with their sword drawn, and an experienced guard would be much fitter. Probably one of Jajim's lot. He was a lousy trainer. Aisha could beat him in a fight with her hands tied behind her back. She'd done it before, too.

Aisha skidded around a corner and was faced by an imposing, discouraging wall. She looked behind her; the shadows of the guards were coming near. With an angry growl and a curse, she swung her arms and threw the gold over the wall before leaping after it with the kind of agility only a street rat could possess. She didn't look back as she disappeared over the other side: seeing how close the guards were could discourage her. Not that they could ever make it over that wall. It was thinking that discouraged Aisha the most. There was always room for doubt, and if she opened the door for it to seep in she would never escape it. As long as she was doing something, she could really do anything. Thinking was always the drawback, her human flaw. It didn't matter how many people said to look before you leap, Aisha knew they were all wrong. Thinking would destroy her, and certainly anyone else who tried. It was best not to bother, really.

She scooped up the gold again and continued running. Her breath was beginning to become ragged. She probably still had enough energy to get back to the hideout, though. God, she hoped she did. She wouldn't survive if she didn't.

Aisha kept running. Her feet lead her unconsciously as her mind wandered. She wondered was time it was. She had to be back before Damir came to attend to her, because if Damir got too worried he would probably blab to someone. And if Al and Jas found out… Aisha couldn't help but to shudder. She didn't like thinking in general, but thinking about what Al and Jas would do to her if they discovered what she had been doing with her nights frightened her more than facing a thousand guards with no weapons or escape routes.

Speaking of which. This was a dead end Aisha had never seen before. It was an awfully high wall. She wasn't sure she could throw the gold that high, let alone follow it down to the other side. Her eyes scanned the dark alleyway carefully. A few rotting crates; no good. She wouldn't trust her weight with those for all the gold in the world. An old man, head drooping on his chest and shoulders heaving with snores. Not much help there, either. No good handholds on any of the walls or houses around her. Except… No. It couldn't be… But it was! A ladder!

Aisha spared a few seconds to praise Allah; then she heard the bumbling guards catching up behind her and moved. Holding the gold tight with one arm, she grabbed the ladder with the other and dragged it over to the wall, taking the time to check its stability and then hastily beginning the climb. The one hand she used to scale the ladder was soon laced with splinters, but there was no time to pick them out. Once high enough, she tossed the gold over the wall again and resumed climbing, now with two hands.

She was fast, but not fast enough. One of the nimbler guards had caught up and wrapped his fingers around her ankle just as she drew close to the top. With a grunt she turned and looked down in his hungry eyes. His teeth glinted in the moonlight. Aisha moved to grab her sword, but the movement made the ladder sway dangerously. The guard grinned, realising this too; he also realised, however, that he couldn't grab his own sword without losing his balance. It was a tough choice: let go of the thief's ankle and grab a weapon, or hold onto the thief's ankle and wait for something to happen.

Aisha wasn't one to wait around for things to happen. With a well-practiced manoeuvre, Aisha wriggled her ankle and yanked herself free, disappearing over the wall. She heard the guard's roar of anger and laughed as she ran away, gold jingling merrily in her arms as she made her hundredth narrow escape.

xXx

The shadows welcomed her as she stepped inside the rundown shack. The hulking shadows of four men that towered far over her waited in the blackness. Though she could not see them, she felt their eyes on her as she moved into the centre of the room and let the gold fall with a loud clatter onto a wooden table before standing back, arms folded and eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Satisfied?" she said. She didn't bother trying to disguise her voice. These men saw her for what she well and truly was. She earned their respect by being a more skilled thief than any of them and by providing them with all of the riches she took. She gave them gold; they gave her silence.

They did not reply, instead showing their satisfaction by swooping upon the pile with a manner not unlike that of a vulture, picking out what they wanted with the occasional grunt or whisper. Aisha watched and felt rather smug. No other eighteen year old she knew could boast of being the successful head of one of Agrabah's most feared thief rings right under the noses of the prince and princess. Not that she actually _knew _that many eighteen year olds, but still. It was impressive and took skill, skill that a lot of people didn't have.

Aisha looked at the desert sky out of the window. It was beginning to lighten. Her stomach did a nervous flip-flop and she addressed her men. "I have to go," she said. Blunt and straight to the point. Just how they liked it. "I'll not see you again until Thursday. We've got a big assignment, and I'll need all of your help. Gaheel, you're in charge, as ever." The biggest of the men nodded once and said nothing. As much as he intimidated her sometimes, Aisha trusted her more than she did the other three. "Till then, we both keep our traps shut as ever."

Not breaking eye contact (just to prove how unintimidated she was by these men), Aisha backed into the shadows and disappeared into the dawn, silently leaping from rooftop to rooftop and dropping from the top of walls to scale another until the palace came into sight. She scaled one of the few trees planted around the palace walls and leapt onto the top of the whitewashed wall before dropping from there into the leaves of another tree. It hurt, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She slid down the trunk and landed softly in the grass before scurrying across the royal lawns and, not taking any chances, scaled the walls until she slid into the window of her room.

It was only as she stood in the warm room that Aisha realized how tired she really was. Stumbling, she pulled off her clothes and hid them in the back of her wardrobe before clambering into the soft comfort of her bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

xXx

"Aisha? Aisha, are you in? Don't make me call you princess."

Aisha groaned and rolled over into her pillows. Why was she being bothered so early? It was plain rude, was what it was. If she had had the energy, she would have rolled over and told them to leave her alone. But she was too tired even for that. They would figure it out eventually, though… Realize she was just sleeping, not out robbing the houses of Agrabah… Damir could rest easy once again…

Aisha's eyes snapped open in the depths of her pillow.

_Damir._

With newfound energy, she sat bolt upright, grabbed a flimsy dress and threw it on over her head before diving back into her bed. "Yes- yes, come in!" she cried, flustered.

The door opened, and sure enough Damir's wide-eyed face peered in. He didn't look like anyone else in the city. His skin was paler, her eyes were bigger and darker. His hair was short and curly and he knew nothing of the customary harem pants everyone else wore, dressing instead in a plain wraparound skirt and tunic. He was not an Agrabah local, but Aisha did not think that any reason for people to treat him the way they did. Egyptian, Arabic, what did it matter? She smiled wearily as he came in, trying to look as though she had just woken from a proper night's sleep.

He didn't buy it, naturally. She had never been able to fool him, not for a moment. "Were you out stealing lastnight?"

Aisha shook her head airily. "Nah, just a bad night's sleep."

Damir looked at her with a raised eyebrow over one shoulder as he refilled her fruit bowl. "Right. Remind me, since when was a smudge of dirt on the face a side-effect of a bad night's sleep?"

Aisha glared. "Fine, Mister All-Knowing. If you must know, I _was _out lastnight."

"Did you get caught?"

"What do you think? I never get caught."

"Looks like it was a close call to me."

"Oh, come on. Just because I get a little bit of dirt under my royal nails doesn't mean I almost got caught."

Damir shook his head. "You haven't heard the stories in the servant's quarters, then."

Aisha blanched. "Already?"

"What were you thinking?" Damir demanded exasperatedly. "Stealing from one of the richest men in Agrabah? You're not immortal, Ai."

"You don't think I know that?" Aisha snapped back. "I can't stop, though. Gaheel and the others'll rat me out if they don't get their gold."

"Tell them to get it themselves."

Aisha groaned. "It's a lot more complicated than that, Dami. They know I'm the princess, for one thing. If I can't provide, they'll tell everyone. I'm young enough to be their granddaughter, and I've only got, what, eight years of experience? They've been fighting as long as I've been alive, probably even longer. I can't just back out. They'll kill me."

Damir shrugged his slender shoulders. "Rat them out. Get them arrested."

"There's no way Jajim and his bunch of idiots could ever capture them. And they'd know who told them. "

Damir shook his head. "Sorry, Ai, but this is a pretty poor way to repay Aladdin and Jasmine for everything they've done for you."

Aisha flushed hotly. She hated it when she thought about that. "It's not like I'm not grateful or anything," she said hastily. "It's just…"

"Boring, I know," Damir sighed. "You've told me more than a thousand times."

"Exactly, so stop nibbling away at my conscience," Aisha said.

"You'll get caught someday," Damir pressed on absently. "Or hurt. And what will you tell them?"

"The truth," Aisha answered simply. "What else is there for me to do? When the evidence is overwhelming, I'll confess."

Damir fell silent for a short while. Then: "If you don't trust those men, why do you hang around them?"

"I told you, I don't have a choice."

"Well, you could at least have someone-"

Aisha groaned and fell back into her pillows. "Damir, I've told you a hundred times. _No_."

"Come _on_, Aisha. Just once."

"No! Why do you want to come so badly, anyway?"

"Someone needs to take care of you," Damir answered with a simple shrug. "Aladdin and Jasmine have been doing a pretty poor job so far. Admit it, I'm-"

"My only friend? Yes. My babysitter? No. Dami, an inexperienced hand will get caught. You get caught, we get caught, then we _all _get executed."

"I thought they only cut off your hands for theft."

"Not for the big guys like us," Aisha shook her head. "It's very sweet that you care and all, but I've proven a thousand times over that I can take care of myself. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I won't!" Damir cried indignantly. "I can take care of myself too, you know."

Aisha snorted. "You jump when I say hello to you in the corridors."

"Because I'm not expecting it."

"If you don't expect your friend to say hello and be nice, then you definitely won't expect Jajim coming around the corner with a sword in his hands and murder in his eyes."

"He usually does that to me, though."

Aisha sighed. "Put it this way, Dami: it's one thing to find a princess out playing thief at night. But that's the thing- I'm a princess. My fate is Aladdin and Jasmine's decision. But if they find an Egyptian kitchen boy… Somehow I don't think it'll be the same."

Damir looked at her with big eyes, sitting down beside her on the bed. "You'd pay a ransom for me, wouldn't you?"

Aisha clapped his back cheerily. "'Course I would. And in return, you are going to tell everyone I am very sick today and let me catch up on my sleep."

Damir stood and shrugged. "Well, if you've caught up on your sleep by this evening, it's my night off."

Aisha was busy rolling over and burying herself in the covers again. "Yeah. So?"

"So I was wondering- you know, if you're not, eh, busy- if you'd like to join me in the gardens. As friends," he added hastily. He averted his eyes nervously, twiddling his thumbs tensely.

Aisha smiled at him over the covers, eyes already closed. "That'd be nice."

Damir brightened. "So you're not stealing tonight?"

Aisha sat bolt upright again. "Shout it from the rooftops why don't you!" she hissed, looking around wildly. "No, I'm not _working _until Thursday, but if you can't keep your big mouth shut I may well change my mind."

"I'll keep that in mind," Damir said cheerily. He looked rather pleased with himself. "I'll come around and wake you up, alright?"

Aisha was already settled back into her bed again. "Mm-hmmm."

Damir chuckled to himself as he watched over her balled-up form under the covers from the doorway for a moment. "Goodnight, princess," he murmured softly, smiling as he departed into the corridor.


	3. Chapter Two

Laughter echoed from the golden dome roofs of the palace. From a distance, it would appear that the dome had sprouted a pair of lively, tall black lumps that blended almost perfectly into the night sky, and as the sun sank behind the sand dunes a little golden light joined them, flickering between their two small forms. Occasional fragments of chatter reached the ears of the locals, and though most of them spent some time scratching their heads and staring in bewilderment they all eventually gave up and went home.

The black lumps were, of course, Damir and Aisha. Aisha had been awake and ready to go by the time Damir had come to pick her up. Her long black hair cascaded casually down her back and she wore clothes similar to those of Princess Jasmine's, though in gold. Damir was dressed casually in his own clothes- namely, just the plain white wraparound skirt, the only thing he had salvaged from Egypt when he ran away. His chest was open to the hot desert breeze. They had clambered up to the roof with the help of Carpet and Aisha's admirable climbing skills and had been basking up the warmth radiating from the golden roof beneath them since, blissfully relaxed and carefree.

"Alright, alright, my turn," Damir gasped for air, clutching a stitch in his ribs. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," the ever-fearless Aisha said immediately. Her eyes were wide and alive, her face challenging.

"OK then…" Damir pondered it. "Alright, I've got one- I dare you to sing that song you're always humming to yourself."

The ever-fearless Aisha was no more. She coughed and averted her eyes, fussily toying with a strand of her hair. "It's just some stupid folk song Dami, I don't know the words-"

"Make them up," Damir replied simply. "Come on, Aisha, it's a dare."

"No, no, it's just some silly thing-"

"You're not chickening out are you?" Damir challenged, folding his arms under his arm pits and flapping them around like a chicken.

Aisha glared. "_Fine_. It's nothing special though, I'm sure everyone else knows it. Jasmine used to sing it to me when I was little and wouldn't sleep."

Damir looked at her pointedly. "The song."

"It goes something like, um, 'oh, I come from a la'-"

"I said sing it," Damir reminded her.

"I am!" Aisha cried indignantly.

"You're saying it. Come on, Aisha, just get it over with."

Aisha blew a whisp of hair out of her face and glared. "I hate you, Damir."

"Don't change the subject."

Aisha took a deep breath and began:

"_Oh I come from a land,_

_From a faraway place_

_Where the caravan camels roam._

_Where it's flat and immense_

_And the heat is intense;_

_It's barbaric, but hey- it's home._

_When the winds from the east and the sands from the west_

_And the sand in the glass is right._

_Come on down, stop on by-_

_Hop a carpet and fly_

_To another Arabian night._

_Arabian nights,_

_Like Arabian days_

_More often than not_

_Are hotter than hot_

_In a lot of good ways._

_Arabian nights,_

_'Neath Arabian moons._

_A fool off his guard_

_Could fall and fall hard,_

_Out there on the dunes."_

Aisha looked at Damir sheepishly. "That's all I remem… what are you staring at?"

Damir shook himself and flicked his eyes away. "Nothing, nothing… You're a better singer than you think, Ai."

"And _you _are trying to get back in my good books," Aisha replied, tapping his chest. "How come you can't be all shy and meek with me?"

"Because you're not arrogant and rude with me," Damir replied simply. "It's a servant's job to be shy and meek and it's a princess' job to be arrogant and rude."

"I'm not-!" Aisha cried indignantly.

"No, you're not," Damir agreed. "You're my friend. Not my master."

Aisha smiled at him. "That's very sweet of you, Dami. But I'm still going to make you pay for that."

Damir sighed. "I know. What have you got for me?"

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Damir answered carefully.

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Thanks for making things difficult, Dami. OK, let me think… What's your biggest fear?"

Damir looked out across the desert and chewed his lip. "That I'll have to go back to Cairo," he replied after a while. "I mean, Agrabah isn't home, but it's close, right? And it's a better home than Cairo ever was."

"But you're treated unfairly here," Aisha said bemusedly. "Why would you want to stay?"

Damir shrugged. "I do miss Cairo sometimes," he admitted. "The Nile and the pyramids and at least there I'm not a freak." He looked at Aisha with his big brown eyes. "But I've got you here, don't I? That's something Cairo will never have. And it doesn't matter how alluring Cairo becomes, I'm not going back to the monastery."

Aisha nodded and they lapsed into a rare moment of silence. Damir watched her profile carefully as the desert winds blew strands of hair across her face. She looked so serene in the flickering candle light, her face framed by the black night sky. It didn't matter how tired she was after coming home from a raid or from not getting enough sleep, there always seemed to be this _energy _about her. It was the same energy that made Damir pluck up the courage to make conversation with her, the energy that convinced him to stay in her presence. She had never hesitated to let him know what she thought about anything. He remembered when they were little, when he had just arrived from Cairo and this bright-eyed motormouth princess had approached him. She had treated him more equally than anyone else had since he had arrived in Agrabah. She was different and she was special. Damir was the luckiest Egyptian runaway monk in the world.

"Just out of curiosity, Ai," he said tentatively. "What's your biggest fear?"

Aisha sighed and stared out across the city. The final lights in the windows were being snuffed out and Agrabah was being plunged into blackness, save for the winking stars twinkling over their heads. "That I'll be replaced," Aisha said very quietly. "That Aladdin and Jasmine will have that kid they've been dying to have for ages and I won't matter anymore. That you'll find a nice girl and fall in love with her and I'll be left behind. I know it sounds stupid, but I don't want to be forgotten."

Damir stared in shock, then remembered how his lips moved. "It's not stupid," he said. "And I'm sure it'll never happen. You're a special one, Ai."

Aisha smiled half-heartedly and yawned, stretching her arms high over her head. "I'll try to remember that," she said softly. "It's just as well I've got you around to remind me."

Damir stood cautiously and offered a hand. "You're tired. Let's go."

Aisha grinned back; her teeth glinted in the candlelight. "Considering I had more hours of sleep than is absolutely logical, it's kind of hard to believe but it's true."

Damir laughed and helped her to her feet. "All these royal duties must be taking their toll."

"Must be," Aisha yawned absently, resting her head on his bony shoulder as they swayed on the roof. They remained that way for a few moments before Aisha straightened, stretched and lead the way back down to the ground.

xXx

Some hours later, Aisha sat down at the long, grand table, stacked with fruit that you normally wouldn't find in Saudi Arabia- that is, if you were a commoner. Here, in the palace, there was everything imaginable. Despite her twelve years in the palace, Aisha could never quite forget the feeling of not having any food and the sight of such feasts still made her mouth water and her stomach grumble loudly.

She took her usual seat: despite the massive size of the table, Aladdin, Jasmine and Aisha only took up three little seats positioned next to each other. Jasmine smiled as Aisha took her seat and pecked her cheek swiftly. "Good morning, Ai."

"Morning, Jas," Aisha yawned, pouncing on an apple and chomping down into it heartily.

"Feeling better?" Aladdin asked. He cut up his food very neatly and was more of a lady than Aisha could ever be. She swallowed a chuckle and answered politely.

"Much," she replied with a smile. "Just a headache."

Jasmine's eyes were worried. "Let us know next time you're sick," she said fussily. "We don't want it to escalate into something really bad."

Aisha laughed and smiled. "You're such a worrywart, Jas. I'll be fine. If nothing else, living on the streets gives you an immune system of steel."

Jasmine smiled tightly and went back to eating. As they engaged in idle family chatter, Aisha began to feel the familiar twinges of guilt building in her stomach. They had taken her in, bathed her, clothed her, fed her, raised her, loved her, and how did she repay them? Sneaking out behind their backs and lying to their faces. She was the worst daughter in the world. How could she do this to them?

_Aladdin would understand, _she told herself unconvincingly. _He goes off on adventures all the time. He must get bored still… wouldn't he?_

But just like most princesses, Aisha masked her true feelings behind a winning smile and a tinkling laugh. Damir slid in through the door, and gone was the lively character from last night. Damir was working now. He was the meek, shy, obedient Egyptian servant, picked on by most and respected by few. He gave Aisha a small nod of acknowledgement (no matter how many times Aisha reassured him of how sweet her adoptive parents were, he was still uneasy around them) and she gave him a bright smile in response. Aladdin and Jasmine greeted him kindly and he bowed clumsily. Aisha rolled her eyes and shook her head, lips upturned in a smile.

"Jajim says his men caught the leader of that thief ring lastnight," Aladdin said conversationally.

Aisha choked on her mouthful and began gagging madly; Damir dropped the bowl he was cleaning with a clatter. Aisha swallowed a mouthful of water and washed the half-eaten mouthful down, trying to face Aladdin and Jasmine's questioning stares without the faintest trace of guilt.

"You alright there, Ai?" Jasmine asked, half jokingly, half concernedly.

"Fine," she said, voice hoarse. "I just find it difficult to believe Jajim of all people would catch that thief."

"Are you alright, Damir?" Jasmine asked Damir kindly. He jumped in surprise and bent into a stuttering bow.

"S-slipped, Your Majesty," he managed. "Ai- Princess Aisha's cough surprised me. I'm terribly sorry for any damage-"

"Don't be," Aladdin said with a shrug. "There's plenty of fineries around here."

Damir bowed in his direction. "Of course, Your Highness. Thank you."

Aladdin shrugged. "Don't mention it. Ai, what have you got against Jajim anyway?"

Aisha pretended to think for a moment. "Hm, let me see," she said sarcastically. "It's not like the guy actually tried to kill me or anything when I was six. Did he actually catch the guy or just catch a glimpse?"

Aladdin sighed. "Just a glimpse," he admitted. "And it wasn't him personally, it was one of his men. There was a chase, apparently, and they almost caught him going over a wall with the gold."

"So it's definitely a man?" Aisha said, fingers knotted anxiously under the table. Damir had stopped working and was listening in tensely, his muscles knotted in his back and ears straining.

Aladdin nodded; Aisha and Damir relaxed. "He hid his face but the build was definitely masculine."

Aisha shrugged and resumed her eating. "Well, we're scarcely closer to finding the thief. There are plenty of men in Agrabah."

Aladdin looked at her irritably. "Thanks for ruining the conversation with the negativity there, Ai."

She grinned and winked. "Welcome."

Damir glided past. "Good cover-up," he hissed from the corner of his mouth as he passed.

"You too," she whispered back. Then he was gone and conversation resumed.

"Kharimed dropped in yesterday," Jasmine added absently. "While you were sick."

Aisha moaned and her head sagged. "You're _kidding_."

"Oh, come on," Jasmine said, tapping her arm lightly. "He's not that bad. He's a nice boy, isn't he?"

"Nice, I suppose," Aisha said, dragging a hand over her face. "But so clingy and over romantic. Is he still here?"

"No, he left when we told him you were sick," Jasmine replied. "I'm sure if you got to know him-"

Aisha stared at her. "You're not going to make me marry him, are you?" she said, voice pleading.

"Of course not," Jasmine snorted. "Who you marry is your choice. It's the law."

Aisha smiled at her. "Thank Allah for that."

"Mind," Aladdin said tentatively. "You'll probably have to get married soon anyway…"

"I'm sure someone will come along," Aisha said simply. If she was honest, the prospect of marriage didn't appeal to her much. She probably wouldn't be able to go out as much as she did. Plus, she had never really had the chance to meet a nice guy, or anyone of her age. When she managed to sneak out of the palace, she devoted her energies to stealing, not socialising. Sure, there was Damir, but he was her friend. She wouldn't make him do anything uncomfortable like that.

Aladdin pulled a hand over his own face. "As if I haven't got enough trouble already," he said jokingly. "I have to catch a thief _and _make sure my daughter gets married before she's too old."

Aisha poked out her tongue, disguising the vicious guilt rising in her again. "I'm not you daughter, so don't worry your princely little head over it," she teased. "I can take care of myself."

Aladdin's eyes were on her then, and she could see genuine love behind them. She squirmed on her chair. How could she betray them like this? "I know," he sighed softly. "It's just a peace of mind thing. I don't want to see you unhappy."

Aisha smiled kindly at her lap. She couldn't meet his eyes. "I know," she replied quietly. "I'll be fine, Al."

He sighed. "What would it take to get us to call you Mother and Father?" he wondered.

"I'd feel weird," Aisha said with a shrug. "I mean, if I do find my real parents someday I'd feel like I was betraying them. I still think of you as parents, I just can't say it."

Aladdin nodded and sighed again. "Well, better go find some princely duty to take care of," he said wearily.

Aisha stood and stretched. "I'll go groom the monkey and the tiger," she said eagerly. It was her usual job and she loved it. If Damir wasn't busy he usually did it with her.

They went their separate ways and Aisha's feet lead her unconsciously down to the courtyard. Her mind was reeling: was continuing to steal right? It saved her from boredom, certainly, but that was practically the only positive thing about it, and even then it was a selfish motive. She was taking other people's possessions, lying to the only parental figures she had ever known and making them stress out. Maybe… maybe she should just tell them she couldn't do it. Make up some bogus excuse. She trusted Gaheel. Maybe he could help her.

But… not yet. She had one more big job on Thursday. It was a challenge and the rewards, as mystic as they were, were alluring. Maybe… she would just do this one big job, and then she would be done. She would get married and be a good little princess. She would be a good daughter.

As she sat in the courtyard running her fingers through Rajah's fur, she felt considerably at peace.


	4. Chapter Three

Aisha swayed a little on her toes; she steadied herself, wondering if the eagle-sharp eyes of her colleagues had seen her. They intimidated her, but they also encouraged her to show no fear. Besides, it was a crucial stage of the operation. She couldn't afford their jeers to weaken her confidence now.

_Shut up_. She was thinking too much. Focus, Aisha. Watch the street, watch the street… There! Sparks flared in the night once, twice, three times. The signal.

Aisha looked over her shoulder and nodded once at her men, who looked back at her with blank eyes. She leapt and swung from window to window silently, using momentum and a nice swing of the body to launch herself into the room. She rolled across the floor and landed, crouched on the floor, looking around the dark room cautiously.

_Oh, Aisha, what can I say? You're flawless._

Back to work.

Keeping close to the shadows, Aisha rolled across the floor and waited in a dark corner. One by one, three hulking shadows of men swung themselves in through the window and silently glided to their respectful corners of the room. Aisha relaxed slightly in her corner and tipped her head back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling.

_Please, Allah. Let it be tonight._

They sat in utter silence in the blackness for a while. Aisha's mind wandered; her eyelids drooped shut and it was with an effort she wrenched them open again. They'd hang her guts out to dry if they found her sleeping on the job. She had to focus, in case Gharibad came in…

Aisha jerked herself awake again. How much time had passed? Not much, by the looks of it. Nothing in the sparsely decorated, white-washed room had changed. Straining her eyes, Aisha could just make out the dim figures of her men hiding in the shadows. Gharibad still hadn't arrived to make the handover. Aisha squirmed a little in her corner as she wondered, not for the first time, what Gaheel and the others had done to the man Gharibad had originally arranged to meet with the gold. Surely they wouldn't have killed him… Oh, don't be naïve, Aisha. Of course they killed him. Even if they just dumped him in the desert, he would be dead by now.

Aisha chewed her lip. She had been telling herself for a while that these men weren't killers, even though she really knew they were. I had become a mantra. But if she wanted to get out of this alive… It would probably help if she admitted to herself she had been in the company of killers for the last eight years.

Sounds from outside reached their eyes, and everyone stood up a little straighter. Aisha's ears pricked and her eyes widened against the blackness. Her fists clenched at her sides and she tensed her legs, ready to spring. Her shoulders tightened and she steeled herself, let herself fall into the adrenaline of the moment. Her worries melted away. Her mind numbed and stopped thinking- just the way she liked it.

A little circle of light entered the room and was placed on a tabletop. There were quiet grunts from outside and the sound of wood scraping on the floor and, inch by painful inch, a skinny little body entered the dim light the candle shed. He was hunched over and grunting to himself as he dragged in a weighty chest. Aisha's heart pumped: she couldn't see it, but she could sense it. _Gold_. The word on her tongue, the touch of it on her fingers. She could already see herself admiring her reflection in a golden goblet…

Gharibad stood up straight and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked around the room curiously; scratched his head in bewilderment. The men concealed in the shadows behind him advanced forward sneakily and silently. Gharibad's dark hand shot forward and grabbed the candle, waving it around curiously in an attempt to catch sight of the man he was supposed to be seeing. For a second, the flames illuminated his face, and for a second Aisha paused.

He was just a boy.

Younger than she was, by far. He must have been just a slave boy of Gharibad's. Aisha cursed herself silently- how could she forget? Rich people _never _did anything on their own! Damn, damn, damn. This threw a spanner in the entire works-

Fhanji leapt forward and wrapped his thick arms around the boys skinny throat. The movement was almost too quick for Aisha to register, but though her body moved slowly her body acted as the other two thieves stepped out of the shadows, making for the chest as Fhanji held a dagger close to the boy's stomach. Aisha saw him apply the pressure in slow motion, felt her feet move as though in a dream. She waved her arms wildly and caught Fhanji's attention. The boy's terrified face floated just above Fhanji's muscly arm. It was beginning to turn purple.

_Stop! _Even in the worst of times, Aisha knew she could not draw attention to the home. She used sign language only. _We- thief- not- killer_.

Aisha's hand paused and hovered in mid-air; the sign for 'killer' was that of a hand being drawn across the throat. Keeping still, she held Fhanji's fierce gaze unwaveringly. Without blinking, she curled the fingers of one hand into her palm and punched the palm of her other hand. Fhanji glared for a few seconds longer before nodding reluctantly and clubbing the poor slave boy over the head with the hilt of his dagger. He stood back and let his limp form collapse to the ground. Aisha nodded at him coldly and moved out of the window, moving her masked face away before he could see the shock and fear engraved in her eyes.

Gaheel and Phojik where helping Casheem haul the heavy gold into the back of a cart; Fhanji joined them with a final meaningful glance over his shoulder at Aisha. She ignored him and took to the rooftops, tailing them until they returned to the hideout. She lingered, watching the building for another hour more, before her eyelids were too heavy to support and she forced herself to turn back.

Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. She had always known they were killers, she had known from the bottom of her heart. She had ignored it because she didn't want to believe that the girl Aladdin and Jasmine and Damir had put so much trust in was associating with such people. As far as she was concerned, being a thief was one thing- at least no-one was getting hurt. But seeing the fluidity with which Fhanji had moved, the cold detachment in his eyes as he began pressing the knife into the boy's belly… It was too much. Aisha could never trust those men, but she hadn't believed that they would stoop so low as to murder a defenceless boy.

So the question remained- what would become of her? If they had no qualms over killing a little boy, she was sure killing an eighteen year old girl would be more than easy. They were impossible to read- who knew how they would react? She thought she could trust Gaheel, at least, but he was only ever interested in the gold. He was more than capable of getting it himself, but if the little provider he had recruited was unable to prove her worth would he just slit her throat and leave her for the flies?

Aisha screwed up her face against the desert wind blowing her hood back and flapping with the cloth tied around her mouth. She was so _stupid _for getting involved in this damn mess! Damir was right, she wasn't bulletproof and there was no way she could expect to escape from this damned business unscathed. How could she be so naïve? She had to tell them, she had to tell Aladdin and Jasmine. This feeling of helplessness was overwhelming her, and the last thing she wanted to do was get Aladdin to sort out her problems for her, but she couldn't think of anything else.

And here she was: the palace. She scaled the walls with numb fingers and a brain that was foggy. She fell through the air as though she were in a dream and the ground under her toes felt _wrong_, somehow. She climbed back to her room with her mind somewhere else and threw herself into her window with a peculiar absence of the usual fluidity, instead stumbling and falling. She stood straight and sagged against the wall, her head in her hands.

"Ai?"

Aisha froze. Oh Allah. Oh Allah. It was Aladdin, his bleary brown face poking into her room. She didn't move. Maybe he hadn't seen her, maybe she could still remain invisible for the time being…

"Ai, is that you?"

Aladdin proceeded into the room, peering around much as the little boy had done so a few hours earlier. His eyes fell on her empty bed and he stiffened; his face became positively savage when he saw the stranger standing in the shadows of his adopted daughter's bedroom.

"Guards!" he bellowed. "Gua-"

"Aladdin, don't!" Aisha pleaded, rearing her head and looking at him with beseeching eyes.

Aladdin faltered and he stared. His eyes widened and his eyebrows dipped; he cocked his head in bewilderment, staring into her concealed face. The confusion and betrayal on his face was almost too much for Aisha to handle. "Ai…?"

Aisha bowed her head and silently unwrapped her shawl, letting it fall to the ground in a dirty heap. She untied the cloth around her mouth and let it flutter to the ground silently. She unclasped her cloak and let it slump around her ankles, leaving her shoulders and arms bare to the desert night. She pulled her hair out and let it cascade down her back before wiping it out of her face and forcing herself to look up into Aladdin's hurt eyes.

Aladdin's face had a looked of forced amusement on it. "Wh-what are you doing, Ai?"

"It's me," Aisha replied, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her thumping heart was clawing itself up her throat and making itself home in her mouth, which may have also had something to do with it. "I'm the thief. It was me Jajim saw the other night. I've been leading four other men in the thief ring. It was me, it was all me."

"How long?" Aladdin asked, voice expressionless.

"Eight years," Aisha whispered, lowering her eyes. She couldn't bear it, she couldn't handle it…

"Eight years?" Aladdin repeated numbly. "But that's…"

"Since I've been living here, I know," Aisha cried. "But I just, I just, I just couldn't handle it! I got so- so _bored_, I just had to _do _something-"

Aladdin chuckled wearily and sat down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. "It's addictive, isn't it?" he mused.

Aisha blinked. "What?"

"The adrenaline," he explained. "Once you've had it, you never forget it. The thrill of the steal…"

"And the triumph of getting away with it," Aisha added tentatively. She hadn't moved from her spot: she was tempted to but she was scared of what he would do.

"That too," Aladdin smiled faintly. "I know what it's like, Ai. Believe me, I do. But why didn't you just _tell _me? I could have taken you out. It would have been much less dangerous…"

"Not to mention unseemly," Aisha said with a grin. "It's kind of lame to be seen out stealing with your adoptive parent."

Aladdin smiled that sad smile. "I would have given the world to," he mused quietly.

Aisha lowered her eyes. She probably shouldn't have said that. "I didn't think you'd understand," she admitted quietly.

"I know," Aladdin sighed. "Come here."

Aisha took a tentative seat beside him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Aisha let her head rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes, remembering what it was like to be held this way when she was little…

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and was surprised to find tears falling down her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried.

"I know," Aladdin said softly. Just tell me next time, OK? You could have gotten yourself killed."

Aisha tried to speak, but her throat was constricted. Air wouldn't convert itself to words. So she just nodded and gasped and tried to swallow the tears. Aladdin ran a hand through her hair before standing straight. "Get changed," he said softly. "Go to bed. We'll talk about it later."

Aisha nodded and disentangled herself, looking at him with red eyes. He smiled. "It's OK," he reassured her. "I'm not angry. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Aisha smiled weakly back and watched him go; staying true to her word she got changed and crawled under the bed covers again, burying herself in the safety and security of her blankets. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter Four

Aisha looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes angrily. Teeth gritted, she turned the rest of her body and faced the guard standing not ten feet behind her with an irritable expression.

"Bugger off, won't you?" she bellowed across the courtyard. "I'm not going anywhere."

The guard didn't move.

Eye twitching, Aisha turned back, shoulders tight and hunched with irritability. She yanked the brush through Abu's fur mercilessly; he screeched and tried to escape but Aisha had a stranglehold on him. Damir's gentle hands loosened hers and he took Abu gently.

"Calm down, Ai," he said soothingly. "You're hurting him."

Aisha threw the brush down and tugged at her hair in frustration. "It's just- they don't- it's so _annoying_!" she cried, eyes wild.

"I know," Damir said softly, running the brush through Abu's fur smoothly. The monkey cuddled up closer to his arm comfortably.

Aisha cast a sly look over her shoulder again and glared. "What do you think he'd do if I tried to drown myself in the fountain right now?"

"He'd probably be too busy smashing the worthless Egyptian kitchen servant to a bloody pulp for grabbing Her Majesty by the hair and holding her on the ground to make sure she didn't do it again," Damir answered simply, not looking up.

Aisha glared. "Very funny, Damir," she sneered sarcastically. "Especially the 'worthless Egyptian kitchen servant' bit. I really split my sides at that."

Damir shrugged. "It's true."

"Yes, well, not to me," Aisha answered firmly. "How am I supposed to get rid of them?"

"Believe me, if I knew I'd tell you," Damir sighed. "I could use the knowledge myself. Why don't you talk to Aladdin?"

"Because he's the one that put the guards on me!" Aisha hissed, so as not for her words to carry to the guard.

"He had good reason," Damir said weakly with a shrug. "He's just trying-"

"To protect me, I know," Aisha rolled her eyes. "But haven't I proved that I can take care of myself? It's not like I didn't have a life on the streets before the palace."

"If I remember correctly, Aladdin saved you from having your hand chopped off," Damir whispered. "I don't know how it works in your country, but where I come from that's not exactly considered as taking care of oneself."

Aisha glared. "Thanks for that, Philosopher Damir," she said unhappily. "You've really backed me up there."

Damir flashed his shy grin. "You're welcome, Princess. Didn't you say you'd quit, anyway?"

Aisha sniffed. "It was a moment of weakness," she said stiffly. "I was scared. I'm going to finish this job, and _then _I'll quit."

Damir sighed. "You can't blame him, Ai."

Aisha's shoulders slumped. "I know," she sighed, and suddenly she sounded very tired. "But I wish he'd just ease up and trust me a little bit more."

Damir looked at her quizzically. "You've been lying to him for eight years. Somehow I find his reasons for not trusting you kind of legitimate."

Summoning a weak smile to her face, Aisha pushed Damir's shoulder lightly. He swayed a little on his perch beside the fountain but regained his balance with a chuckle. He set down Abu gently and stood, feeling Aisha's curious eyes following him as he moved across the courtyard to the guard. He glared down through squinty arms, over his thick folded arms and down into Damir's small, thin face.

"I'm watching her," Damir said quietly, working hard to make his voice sound more impressive than it was. "You can go."

The guard spat in his face. "Shut your mouth, filthy slave."

The substantial gob blinded Damir's vision and he stumbled back, disoriented, rubbing at his face. He heard a furious strangled cry and heard fast footsteps padding past him, followed by a swish of air as someone swooshed past him. Too late, he realised what was happening. He lurched blindly forward but fell. Wiping the spit away from his eyes, he looked up just in time to see Aisha sail through the air, eyes ablaze, and land soundly on top of the guard. He fell back, winded, and landed with Aisha's knees pressing down on his chest and his wrists pinned down on the ground by her hands.

"Aisha, don't-"

"Don't you _dare _talk to Damir like that again," Aisha spat ferociously. "Or I'll have you dragged to Egypt face down behind a festering camel. Then you can find out what it's like."

Damir appeared at Aisha's shoulder and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, Ai," he said quietly, his eyes flicking between the guard and the princess nervously. "We should go."

Aisha glared for a few more seconds before standing ferociously. She whirled on her heel and whacked Damir in the face with her swinging plait as she stormed away. Damir scurried after before the guard could get a chance to recover and beat him to that bloody pulp he mentioned earlier. He looked over his shoulder as he ran: the guard did not follow.

"Aisha, stop," he cried. Fists clenched by her side, she whirled and stared at him questioningly. Damir caught up and straightened the topaz circlet she wore in her black hair. She blinked and stared, surprised, before looking away and sitting on a windowsill, holding her head in her hands helplessly.

"I'm sorry, Dami," she said quietly from between her fingers. She seemed so small. "I just… he has no right to treat you like that."

Damir didn't know what to say. His mouth hung open for a few seconds as he desperately tried to summon the words he needed to say. "It's not your fault," he managed weakly after some time.

"I know," Aisha sighed, sitting up straight and leaning against a pillar, looking out across the desert wearily. "I just wish I could change the way they treat you."

"Don't worry about it, Aisha," Damir mumbled, trying to pretend his heart didn't swell madly at her words. "It is what it is."

Silence fell. "I had better get back to work," he said after a while. "Will you- that is to say, are you-"

"I'll be fine, Damir," Aisha smiled weakly. "I won't get into trouble, I promise. I'll keep myself occupied."

Nodding awkwardly, Damir walked away, his steps uncertain and his arms feeling ungainly. Aisha watched him go before standing with a sigh. She would go to her bedroom, one of her few places of refuge. Aladdin would put another guard on her tail if he saw fit, though at the moment there really was no need: she felt too drained to do anything.

As her legs guided her through the palace, she felt that familiar feeling of claustrophobia beginning to settle. She had shaken it off not long after she had moved into the palace but now the palace walls seemed higher and the guards that followed her seemed too close. The urge that everyone seemed to feel to protect her was suffocating her. Couldn't they understand she was capable of taking care of herself? She didn't need a Prince Kharimed or an over-protective foster father or a kind-hearted Egyptian looking out for her every second. If anything, she spent half the time looking out for Kharimed (making sure he wasn't anywhere in her immediate vicinity) and Aladdin (making sure he wouldn't catch her going out for a late night wander) and Damir (making sure one of the more aggressive guards didn't slit his throat). Couldn't they understand she wasn't a little girl? That she didn't need all this shelter?

Aisha's legs moved faster and before she knew it she had broken into a run, her bare feet slapping on the spotless palace floor. She turned corners and sprinted down corridors before stumbling into her room. Without a care of who saw her she flung off her low cut, wide-necked white shirt and replaced it with her battered leather vest. She swapped her white harem pants in favour of a less-loved pair. She wrapped her cloak about her shoulders, tied up her hair and held it in a shawl, strung the cloth around her mouth once more. She sprang from the window and landed with unmatched precision, steadying herself for a moment before leaping on again. Bound, bound, bound, all the way to ground level. Venting her frustrations with each leap. Running silently across the grounds, scampering up the tree and flinging herself up onto the wall. Freedom was so close she could taste it on her tongue-

Fingers wrapped around her ankle and jerked her down. She could tell by the weakness of the attempt that whoever it was was straining to reach her; sure enough, when she looked down she saw Damir's desperate face upturned and pleading.

"Damir, please," she whispered. "Let me go."

"I can't," he wheezed.

"Please," she begged. "I can't- I just-"

"You promised."

It was all Damir could manage- his chest was too tight to force out too many words- but it made Aisha pause. Her forehead wrinkled and her lips tightened. She was on the verge of saying something… She was very close… But with a sigh she turned away and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see Damir's face as she twisted her ankle sharply, tugged and then shot it out again, hitting him square in the face and sending him toppling backwards.

By the time he had recovered, Aisha had disappeared over the walls.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Hello all! Sorry I haven't updated in a while- I got really caught up in **_**Hourglass of Tears **_**and then I went on camp for a week and then we went to the coast for four days and I had a friend over for two days but then I had an operation on my foot today and I'm not supposed to walk around or anything so I have heaps of writing time :D I have been planning this chapter out for ages and it's pretty long, so as ever enjoy!**

Aisha sat up, back stiff, blinking against the desert sun that shone down harshly. Yawning and shielding her eyes, she spent some time sitting in the dirt stretching out the kinks of her body before sitting back against the wall of a building, already exhausted. Stealing food had been no problem, but her body was having difficulty adjusting to having smaller meals than usual. She had been forced to abandon the comfort of her old hideout, too- she knew it would be the first place Aladdin would search. For the last few hours, since she had run away, she had been moving constantly: the moment she stood still was the moment she became a target. As darkness settled and the desert chill settled in once more, the guards withdrew from the streets and Aisha alighted once more into the dirt, still sleeping cautiously in the streets just in case.

Now the sun had risen and she had two days to kill before the handover.

Standing and stretching, Aisha considered her next course of action. Peering around the streets cautiously, she slowly removed the cloth around her mouth and then promptly fell to her knees, slathering dirt and mud all over her face and her hands until she had enough muck under her fingernails to be considered a true street rat. She shed her expensive (not to mention stolen) cloak and tucked it away in a corner of the street cautiously before finally unwrapping her shawl, letting her hair fall about her shoulders for a brief second before teasing it and knotting it and rubbing her dirty hands through it.

If any guard could recognize her now, they must be at least half blind.

Aisha followed the streets until she found herself at the market. She hadn't been to the market in ages. Twelve years… It seemed a world away. She stepped in cautiously at first, keeping her head and eyes low and shuffling through the crowds as unnoticeably as she could, but eventually the intoxicating scents of the merchant's goods and the lulling roar of haggling cries and advertisements got the better of her. She wandered around freely, conversing every now and again with a friendly shopkeeper, looking at their goods but never buying. She could steal them easily, but she wanted to keep a low profile for now. She would be in enough trouble as it was when she got back to the palace.

She wondered if Damir would be sent down to the markets to get supplies. Would he recognize her? He had never seen her in her thief clothes, and he had certainly never seen her with dirt all over her face. His last remark to her yesterday had hit her, and she still felt guilty for hitting him, but she had to. How would he ever understand? He didn't miss Cairo. He probably had no idea what it was like to be trapped in the palace all day…

Aisha pushed him out of her head. There were other things to be worrying about now. Like that man there. Was he selling _dates_? From _Damascus_? Aisha's mouth watered. It didn't matter how long she spent in a palace with everything and anything at her disposal: Damascus dates would always have a place in her heart.

And in her mouth, too, if she could scrape some gold together.

Not enough time for that, though. And Aisha had left her topaz circlet and her fine clothes back in the palace. With a devilish grin, she cracked her neck and squared her shoulders. All thoughts of keeping a low profile were well and truly out the window now: her fingers tingled and twitched with the promise of those sweet, sweet fruits.

She wasn't the best thief in Agrabah for nothing, after all.

xXx

Aisha flattened herself against the sandy wall, chest heaving and ears listening keenly. She could hear the pitter-patter of their feet and the clink of their weapons, the hiss of their voices echoing through the streets and bouncing to her. Would they see her footprints in the sand? Would they hear the heave of her breath? Would an blast of wind blow at the wrong moment and make her cloak peek around the corner? She couldn't risk being found. Not now. She had heard his voice, she was certain of it. He would have her hands once her found her.

Their voices were louder. They were in the next street, the one she had just disappeared down. Whispering in hushes Arabic, lisping the 's' sounds so they wouldn't carry. All Aladdin's idea, of course. He had taught her that very thing himself, many years ago in the palace courtyards.

Heart thumping so hard Aisha was certain they would hear it, Aisha peered around the corner for the briefest of seconds before disappearing again. She was certain Aladdin was there. Not only did the very techniques of the hunting party make it a dead giveaway, but she had seen the red fez. She had seen plenty of the Agrabah locals in that time and if that had taught her nothing else it was that no-one in the city had a fez like that.

Aisha's heart stopped. What if he had brought Abu? In all of her years in the palace, Aisha had never been able to know when Abu was near. He was silent, when he wanted to be. She looked around the dead-end alley wildly, but saw nothing. Still, it was possible. She would have to be very careful from here on.

The party lingered. Aisha tipped her head back, foot tapping impatiently and silently in the dust. She would be late if they didn't get a move on… Unless she could make it up those barrels. They didn't _look _stable, but if she was quick enough and had enough momentum… Of course, the momentum would involve getting a decent run-up, which would involve exposing herself briefly. The soldiers wouldn't be able to follow her on the roofs, though, and if they followed her on the street she could lose them quickly enough. Aladdin had probably forgotten the street network by now. And he wasn't eighteen any more. Aisha was smarter and faster than all of them. She could do it.

If she actually started moving instead of standing around here thinking.

Leaving no more time for hesitation, Aisha sprang, leaping from the shadows and into the open. She heard the cries of alarm and heard them moving towards her, so she moved instinctively away, springing up to the barrels and jumping at the last moment. Her toes brushed the wood and she let them fell long enough to get a good grip and pushed off again, springing to the next one. To her delight, the barrel fell and cracked over Jajim's head, felling him into the dust dazedly. She was on the roof once more in three jumps and she kept going, not leaving time to look back. She ran, leaping from roof to roof, not pausing for breath until she was a satisfactory distance away. She listened… Nothing. She had lost them.

Better ditch the detour now, then, and get going to where she was supposed to be.

The far south-east corner. That was what Gaheel said. Of course, she would have to stop at the hideout on the way to pick up the actual treasure. Her stomach flipped unpleasantly as she sailed through the air between two buildings. She still hadn't quite recovered from the display three nights before. She couldn't quite explain why: she was a hardened criminal, was she not?

_No, you're not, _a voice in her head said softly. _You're just a kid. You shouldn't be leaping from rooftop to rooftop at night, stealing from the innocent. You should be worrying about boys, not murderers._

_Boys_. Damir. Aisha's stomach flipped again. She hadn't forgotten his face when he was trying to keep her from leaving, or the sound as her foot connected with his face. Was he alright? He wasn't exactly _ugly, _as such. Aisha didn't want to have to be the one to ruin his face. And the fall would have hurt him, too. Would someone have found him? If the soldiers had seen him they probably wouldn't have said anything, or done anything for that matter. And if Aladdin and Jasmine had treated him that probably would have only made matters worse. The guards would never let him forget it.

And Aladdin and Jasmine would certainly be in a rage. She had lied to them for eight years, betrayed their trust and broken a promise. Aladdin had come to look for her himself. Whether or not that was out of concern or fury, Aisha was unsure. And as to whether or not Aladdin had broken the news to Jasmine or not was beyond her knowledge too. Her heart plummeted when she thought of it: she knew how desperately Jasmine wanted a child, and she knew that she was the closest thing Jasmine might ever get to a child of her own. And now she had gone missing and turned out to be a liar and thief to boot, the kind who dealt with murderers and the like.

_Whoops_. Aisha's foot fell through empty air and her fingers barely grasped the edge of the roof. She dangled for a few seconds, heart thumping and breath coming in harsh gasps. She was thinking too hard. She almost missed, and a dead Aisha would have been worse than a missing one for her adoptive parents.

Aisha's arms screamed as she hauled herself up unto the roof once more, but the only sound that escaped her lips was a grunt, muffled by the cloth tied around her face. She set off once more, this time trying to keep her brain activity to a minimum. She reached the hideout not long after, guarded diligently by each of her four men, just as they had arranged. She slipped in and out without their noticing; she had no desire to have any more dealings with them. She didn't know how she'd manage to cut it off, but she'd figure out something. And then she'd force herself onto the straight and narrow. There would be no cause for alarm- they knew that she was the only person who could move through them without any of them noticing. They would probably turn around in ten minutes and see that was gone, be satisfied and go on their way. Not for the first time, Aisha wondered if they had families of their own.

Not enough time for that, though. She was approaching the designated meeting place. She dropped effortlessly to the street, clinging to the shadows and moving soundlessly until a small, cloaked figure emerged into the moonlight. Aisha paused; she had expected this mysterious benefactor to be, well, _taller_. Not that she could complain- she wasn't exactly as tall as other people her age were (she was barely taller than Damir, but he was Egyptian) and her build was, after all, feminine.

"Are you Hiram?" she asked, in as hoarse and husky a voice she could manage. She didn't know how much this strange little man knew, but she didn't want to tell him too much in case he didn't know anything.

"I am," the man replied in a deep, thickly accented voice that didn't suit his build. "You are not who you pretend to be. You are too small."

"Well you're not exactly one to talk," Aisha snapped back.

"It is not my place," the man replied calmly. "I was not making fun of you."

"We're not here to discuss this," Aisha said abruptly. "Do you have the, ah, reward?" For the first time it struck Aisha that the benefactor had never described what the reward was. Just that she come alone, with the treasure. That was all Gaheel had told her, at any rate, and at this point Aisha wasn't so sure it had been wise to put as much trust in him as she once had.

"I do," he replied. A brown hand dived into the depths of his robe and pulled out a small, badly wrapped bundle. Aisha's shoulders slumped and her jaw fell.

"That's it?" she demanded, voice unintentionally squeaky. She coughed and attempted to mask it hastily. "I mean to say… that's it?"

"It has more value than what it would appear to," the man replied calmly. "It is more than what meets the eye."

"I'm sure," Aisha replied through pursed lips, eyeing it distastefully.

Hiram broke the silence. "My treasure, if you please."

After hesitating, Aisha reluctantly kicked the weighty chest towards him, eyes watching him suspiciously. He dropped the bundle carelessly and flung himself onto the treasure, throwing the lid open and admiring the gold within lovingly. Aisha felt herself recoil a little; he was no better than the others. Greed, it would seem, was the only fuel men needed to get up of a morning.

And as for this 'reward'… Curiosity propelled Aisha to stoop and pick it up from the sand. As she held it in her hand, the cloth fell away and the moonlight glinted off a shiny black surface. Eyebrows knitted together, Aisha pulled the rest of the cloth away and held it in her hand, this little reward.

"A _lamp_?" she demanded sceptically. "We went through all that trouble for _this_?"

"Its worth lies within," the man replied simply, voice husky and preoccupied as he held each item from the chest up for scrutiny in the moonlight.

She peered at the little man suspiciously. "This lamp doesn't have a genie in it, does it?"

But he was bundling up his treasure now and slinking off hurriedly. "Use it wisely," he mumbled as he waddled away into the shadows, trembling under the weight of the chest. "And only when you're alone."

"Hang on, you can't just-" Aisha lunged, but he was gone and she was alone with the lamp. She looked at it suspiciously before tossing it up in her hand, catching it again and deftly wrapping it up in the cloth once more.

"I'll deal with you later," she muttered before stowing it away and taking to the rooftops once more.

xXx

Aisha's stomach was knotted unpleasantly when she returned to the palace. Part of her urged her to stay on the streets and return to her life of solitude and crime, but the three people who had grown so close to her heart- Aladdin, Jasmine and Damir- over the last twelve years had called her back. She couldn't leave them hanging. If she left them forever, she could at least leave them with the knowledge that she was alive.

She slid in through her window as effortlessly as she had done for eight years, shedding once more the cloth, the shawl and the cloak. She stooped to pluck up the lamp once more, letting its cloth float to the floor. She should be well and truly alone by now: it was very late, or very early, depending on how you looked at it. No-one would be awake.

"Back already, I see."

Or not. A sputtering light flickered to life and Aisha's heart turned. She hid the lamp behind her back as Aladdin appeared from outside, leaning against the doorway with a candle in one hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

"Have a good time?" he asked flatly.

_Two can play that game, Stony-Face. _

"It was enjoyable," Aisha replied evenly, leaning against the wall casually.

"Steal much?"

"Just food."

"You need a shower."

"I do."

"Did you spare any time to think at all when you hit Damir?"

Aisha's stomach dropped. The first attack. Delivered very casually and conversationally, but there was sting buried in those words and they both knew it.

She had to hand it to him: Aladdin was pretty clever with words.

"I… I…"

Unfortunately, Aisha did not share this gift, particularly not in a verbal attack like this.

"His nose was bleeding," Aladdin continued, flicking some lint from his royal clothes with a careless expression that made Aisha want to hit him. "And he very badly bruised his back in the fall. It's a good thing nothing was broken."

"A doctor did treat him, though?" The words were out before Aisha could stop them, and carried none of the detached carelessness Aladdin so artfully used.

"Of course," he replied. "He was reluctant to, because Damir is Egyptian, but he did."

Silence.

"How's Jasmine?" Aisha asked awkwardly.

"Awful," Aladdin replied bluntly. Tears sprang to Aisha's eyes; she looked away to conceal them. "She was in tears and she wouldn't eat."

_Oh no_.

"Hysterical. No-one could control her."

_She didn't hurt herself, did she?_

"She blamed herself, you know."

_What? Why-? It wasn't her, it was me! She had nothing to do with it!_

"She kept saying how she was the worst mother and how she should have been more careful. She was tearing her hair out."

_Not her hair. _

"She wouldn't talk to anyone- not even me."

_This is all my fault._

"She come in here every morning, just to see if you had come back overnight, and fall apart when she saw you hadn't. She-"

"Shut _up_!" Aisha cut him off furiously. "I'm not stupid! You don't think I know that? You don't think I spent the last two days banging my head on street corners for being such a horrible person? I know what you're thinking- I'm a lying, back-stabbing, two-faced, thieving, violent, troubled teenager, and you're right. But I'll have you know that I am _not _defenceless and I'm _not _stupid. Haven't I proved that? You have been chasing me for _eight years _and you've only just come close to catching me. I don't need any princes to defend me! I don't need you watching over my every move! I can take them all out in two seconds flat."

"This is a dangerous city for girls like you-" Aladdin began.

"'Girls like me'?" Aisha repeated furiously. "What's that supposed to mean? I had to live on my own on the streets at an unreasonable age, I've been sneaking out right from under the Sultan's nose to steal at night and have never been caught in eight years and you tell me this city is _dangerous_? Weren't you listening to anything I just said? I've been hanging out with cutthroat thieves for eight years and I live to tell the tale, something tells me that I can handle this 'dangerous city' by myself."

"You can't just keep running off like that!" Aladdin exclaimed. "Do you have any idea the pain you've caused here?

"Like you can talk!" Aisha snorted. "You used to run off all the time! You're a giant walking contradiction, you know that? You can't raise me telling all your tricks of the trade and going on about all your adventures and expect me to just _sit _here! The only reason I _trusted _you all those years ago was because you said you were a street rat. I thought you'd understand what it was like to be laughed at and spat on and to have to fend for yourself because no-one else would-"

"I do!" Aladdin cried. "You're not as misunderstood as you think you are!"

"You did," Aisha corrected. Her tongue fumbled to find the words she needed to describe what she was feeling. "The man who extended a hand to a street rat in need was Street Prince Aladdin. The man who couldn't trust her to take care of herself, claimed her as his own and strutted about as if she controlled her was Sultan. Don't you get it? You're not the Street Prince anymore. You're- you're one of those stupid rich people I used to hate so much. I should've _known _it would come to this! You're no better than the rest, all you want is your money and your comfort and your girl and your _power_! That's all that _matters _to you stupid, stupid rich people! I hate you!"

Without further thought, Aisha hurled the lamp at him viciously. It caught him in the chest, and he fumbled to catch it. He held it to the candelight and Aisha could see his eyes widen in recognition.

"Where did you get this?" he snapped.

"You can't just order me around like that!" Aisha cried. "You're not even listening to me! You're- you're just showing off your self-supposed power over _everyone _and lording over us like you control everything!"

"Where did you get it," he repeated, voice forced into a level tone.

"Why should I tell you?" Aisha demanded. "It's mine and I'm _sick _of obeying you every whim-"

"Get rid of it," he said hoarsely, thrusting it out to her.

"You're unbelievable!" Aisha shrieked. "You- you're-"

She couldn't find the words.

Aladdin's face was stony. "If you won't, I will," he said harshly before hurling it out of the window. Aisha had to duck before it struck her in the face. She heard a distant metallic clatter as it hit stones below- it was still in the palace grounds.

"Go to bed," he continued in a voice so hard it could have broken diamonds. "We'll talk in the morning."

He left with a swish of his expensive cloak, and Aisha watched him go fuming. Fists shaking, she waited until she couldn't hear him before flinging herself out the window once more. It was a bizarre and ultimately childish notion, but at that moment she didn't care. Her instincts propelled her to rebel, to stand against Aladdin's arrogant rule over everyone and everything. If he didn't like the lamp, too bad. It was hers, and she was having it.

She was finding out what was in there.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: Just so we're clear, as heir to the throne Aladdin now is Sultan because Jasmine's father died. Sad, I know. R.I.P :'(**

Aladdin rubbed his face wearily. He hadn't slept since Aisha's return earlier that morning. He couldn't find any sleep once he returned to the bedroom he and Jasmine shared, and before long the sun had risen and Aladdin thought it about time he dragged himself up and forced himself to work. It had turned out that some of the early-morning slaves had heard them fighting- including Damir. The poor boy was desperately anxious to see his friend- Aladdin saw him waiting in the courtyard with Rajah and Abu for hours, waiting and looking around eagerly for Aisha, but she never came. Aladdin blamed himself: she would have been tired enough as it was, and then he had made her feel guilty about everything and then he had just yelled at her, just like the father he always promised himself he would never be.

The thing that had kept him awake all those hours was the small fact that Aisha was right. He wasn't a humble street rat anymore- he had become the Sultan. He was another member of the rich elite he used to despise so much. He remembered watching them enviously as they strode through in their nice clothes on their expensive horses, and while they looked nice they certainly didn't act nice. Wealth created arrogance- that was Aladdin's motto. And still he had sought it out like a total hypocrite. And now his head was swollen to ridiculous proportions and he was reduced to lording over his foster daughter. When Aisha was growing up she had always been more attached to Aladdin than she was to Jasmine. She loved them both, but she always spent more time with Aladdin because he knew what it was like to live in poverty. She trusted him, and he had betrayed her just as she had betrayed him. She was right- he had done exactly the same thing before settling into his role as Sultan and all the responsibilities that came with it. He had always told himself that he could be Sultan by day, father by night. But somehow it had all just blurred together into one and slipped away. He just didn't have time to hear Aisha's complaints about how bored she was and he just didn't have time to entertain her so she didn't resort to sneaking out onto the streets at night and stealing from the innocent. He had always told himself she would be safe with Damir, but as nice a boy as he was he was too kind-hearted and humble to order Aisha around the way Aladdin had been.

How could he have let this happen? He remembered the first time he had met Aisha. He had been so close to laughing, then- she had gone from terrified and cowering (understandably so) to grovelling and begging at his feet to sceptical and full of attitude to an uncertain girl dragged into a strange world she knew nothing on. Jasmine had wanted to take her in right then, but Aladdin had seen how scared she was and wanted more time to get to know her and give her more time to get used to having so many privileges. He had sent the fruit bowl so she would know she wasn't forgotten- and because he wanted her to know that he and Jasmine weren't like the other rich people she had met.

She had been so happy when they had offered her a job in the palace. She was still only young- Aladdin couldn't remember how young- and the way her eyes had lighted up at the promise of a new home and better living conditions was impossible to describe. She was ridiculously over-eager and as such occasionally reckless in her work- Aladdin could remember more than one occasion when her little feet would propel her across the floor too fast and she would trip only to send a stack of newly polished plates crashing to the floor. With a grin she would pick herself up (along with the plates) and scurry off to complete her job. It had been rather amusing to watch, even if Jasmine had disapproved of Aladdin, Abu and Genie's teasing.

And then she became a princess. It was around that time when she began to become particularly stubborn. It took her a while to make up her mind, and when she finally did she still wouldn't address Aladdin and Jasmine as 'Mother' or 'Father'. She rode a horse for the first time on a street parade and almost fell out. This, apparently, was the cause for much mirth amongst the people- when Aisha rode out they saw an unconfident street rat who was in over her head in a world she didn't belong in. Aisha's horse had 'accidentally' bolted and crushed the toes of one of the more boisterous offenders, and to this day Aladdin still wondered if she had more experience with horses than she was letting on.

Damir had begun work in the palace not long after, and not long after _that _the Sultan died. Aladdin had to step up to the plate and he started seeing Aisha and Jasmine less and less until the most time he had for them was at meal times, and even then he was usually rushed. Aisha's care became Damir's task, and that was probably the worst move Aladdin had ever made as Sultan.

He had let her down. Even at eighteen she was relying on him to protect her from arranged marriage, to remind her that she wasn't alone as a street rat in a shiny palace, to make her feel at home. And instead he had left her to fend for herself. Of course Aisha was more than capable of taking care of herself- who, after all, _hadn't _heard about her attack on the guard who had spat at Damir in the courtyard? He knew more than anyone how determined and feisty she was. It wasn't that he didn't think she could take care of herself. It was that he didn't trust her, and with good reason. Of course, if what Damir had told him was true, than it was that gesture of distrust that had triggered Aisha's getaway. He couldn't shift the blame on this one: everything that had happened was his fault. He couldn't blame Aisha in the slightest for wanting to escape. He knew the feeling very well. Or he used to.

"You OK there, Al?"

Genie's head appeared from around a corner, held in his blue hand. That had always made Aisha laugh when she was little. Aladdin sighed and turned away from the view of the city spanning before him, resting his elbows on the window ledge. In a lunging step, Genie's body stepped out from behind the corner and he screwed his head on firmly once more before gliding over.

"It's Aisha," Aladdin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She came back from another raid or something lastnight."

"At least she came back," Genie offered.

Aladdin laughed through his nose half-heartedly. "I suppose so. We… we argued."

Genie nodded and smacked his lips. Loudly. "Yeah, we kind of all knew that."

"Did you hear what she said?" Aladdin asked.

Genie shrugged his big blue shoulders. "Most of it, yeah. No offence, Al, but she was kind of right."

Aladdin gave an anguished sigh and turned back to the window. "I know," he groaned. "But she's not even talking to Damir, by the looks of it. I have to apologize, but I have no hope. She won't listen to me, she might even just run away again. She probably wouldn't come back, either."

"Has someone made sure that she hasn't already run away?" Genie asked nervously.

Aladdin nodded wearily. "The slaves that clean her room of a morning said she was sleeping this morning. I was going to put a guard outside, but I thought that would just make things worse."

Genie clapped his shoulder and it made his knees buckle. "Wise move, my friend. If you want my advice, just give her some time to cool off. That's usually the way with women. Besides, she's not a bad kid. She'll get over it, eventually. Just make sure you apologize, OK?"

"Believe me, I will," Aladdin agreed. "I've got to talk to Jasmine, too."

"Is she better now?" Genie asked concernedly. What Aladdin had told Aisha was no lie: Jasmine had been an utter wreck.

"I don't think she knows Aisha is back yet," Aladdin said, walking away. "I'm going to tell her now."

But telling her of Aisha's return wasn't the only thing on Aladdin's mind. He knew just as well as everyone else how badly Jasmine wanted a child of her own. It was part of the reason she had taken Aisha in in the first place. And Aisha was great, but after having it drilled into his skull almost a million times Aladdin understood the sentimental value Jasmine wanted in having a child of her own (or something like that). But if he could scarcely manage raising a foster child properly, he couldn't see himself having a hope of successfully raising a child of his own. He had to tell her. Before he ruined everything again.

Their room was dark; Jasmine must have still been asleep. Sure enough, she was tangled up in a small ball amongst the covers. Aladdin sat next to her gingerly, touching her bare shoulder and shaking it softly. She stirred, and her almond eyes blinked open. She saw his face and smiled weakly: Aladdin was rarely there to greet her of a morning. Sleepy hands reached up and her fingers laced at the back of his neck; she tugged him down and kissed him. For a long time. It was a moment they hadn't shared in a long time.

"Good morning," Jasmine whispered sleepily.

"Good morning," Aladdin smiled back, sitting up straight. "How are you feeling?"

Jasmine's face fell once more. "Better," she replied unconvincingly.

"Good," Aladdin grinned, doing what he could to hide his inner anxiety. "Because Aisha's here."

Jasmine sat bolt upright and nearly knocked Aladdin off the bed. "_What_?" she shrieked. "Since when? Is she alright?"

"Calm down, calm down," Aladdin chuckled soothingly. "She's just sleeping. Listen, Jasmine, I…"

Her twinkling eyes turned to him, and for the first time in days he saw colour in her face. Her smile was genuine and uncontainable and she seemed buzzing with energy she hadn't seemed to possess for days. The words died in Aladdin's throat as they often did when he was around her, even after all these years. His heart seemed to collapse on itself and his shoulders slumped. He turned away.

Jasmine's brows knitted together in concern and she touched his arm. "Aladdin? What is it?"

"It's OK," he smiled back, trying to be convincing. "Just give Aisha some rest before you go barging in, alright? She's had a long week."

Jasmine nodded, but her eyes lingered. She wasn't convinced. But Aladdin showed no signs of relenting, and she dragged her gaze away, fiddling with the sheets uncomfortably. "I suppose you have to work now," she said quietly after a while.

"Yes," Aladdin sighed. "But I'll find time for us. I promise."

Their eyes met once more, and though she said nothing Aladdin felt the weight of a thousand unsaid words weighing down upon him. As if to seal the contract, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before reluctantly standing and leaving, feeling her eyes bore into his back the whole way.

xXx

The door cracked open; Aladdin turned, heart rising, but relaxed when he saw it was just Damir. The boy bowed respectfully and Aladdin smiled back.

"Morning, Damir," he greeted him politely.

He bowed his head in nervous acknowledgement. "Good morning, my lord," he replied quietly before setting to work. Aladdin turned back to the window and the usual silence descended between them. Aladdin had never quite gotten to know Damir as well as Jasmine had. They engaged in polite conversation, but that was about as far as it went. Of course, in this new mission of his to spend more time with his falling apart family he had decided that he would at least try to get to know the boy.

"Um… my lord?" Damir's voice jerked him out of his daydreams. Aladdin turned once more to see that he was already done. Either he was extremely efficient or a lot of time had passed without Aladdin's noticing. "Is Aisha… well, is she OK?"

Aladdin's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that she didn't turn up to groom Rajah and Abu this morning," Damir blurted. "In the courtyard," he added. "It's like a morning chore for us…" he trailed off uncertainly, eyes averted.

Aladdin sighed, sagging into a chair and rubbing his face wearily. "She may have just been sleeping," he said feebly.

Here Damir seemed to become particularly nervous. "She wasn't, sir," he said tentatively. "I saw her moving around through her window in the morning. It's not really my place, sir, but what did you say to her lastnight? I think she's upset."

"Just give her time to cool off," Aladdin said hopelessly, deflecting the question. "I'm sure she's fine. She's very tired. I'll let you know as soon as I see her. Don't fret, Damir." Aladdin tried to give him a convincing smile. It didn't seem to work.

"Yes, my lord," Damir said reluctantly, gathering his tools and bowing respectfully once more. "Have a good day."

"You too," Aladdin mumbled. The door clicked shut and he was alone once more.

He was _never _going to be able to manage a family of his own.


	8. Chapter Seven

Aisha's eyes numbly appraised the man before her. Dark-skinned and dressed grandly in red and black, he already felt so familiar to her, like a close friend from a childhood she had forgotten. She could feel the eyes of both him and his parrot boring into her head and the cold metal of the sleek, black lamp beneath her fingertips. She had only known them for a matter of hours, but she had become strangely attached. Jafar was her only friend, because everyone else had abandoned her. She had never really noticed it until he had pointed it out, but she knew the truth now. Jafar was the only person she could trust.

He twirled the staff in his long-fingered hand deftly. "I trust the results of your first wish were pleasing," he purred.

"Pleasing!" squawked the parrot.

Aisha nodded stupidly. She couldn't meet his eyes, for while he was her friend he was still of terrible power. She knew that. He had told her so.

Jafar sighed wistfully. "How great it must be to be free of your servitude to such stupid animals!" he cried. "Freedom is but a long-forgotten daydream for me."

Part of Aisha's mind that wasn't groggy with the strange fog that had settled all those hours ago stirred. "Are you saying I'm a stupid animal?" she asked with a heavy tongue, lifting her head to meet his eyes with a challenge carved into her face.

Jafar's face twitched in annoyance and Aisha was on guard. With a flick of his wrist the glowing coal eyes of his staff consumed her sight once more and all she could hear was his voice. "Of course not," he said soothingly. His voice boomed and rang in her ears. "I was merely pondering the greatness of freedom I do not possess. You could give me that. You know that. You owe me it, do you not? If I give you your freedom, you should give me mine. All you need to say are a few words. It's not hard for a girl of your intelligence. Come, Aisha."

Yes. Of course. Freedom. He was right. He was always right. He had been right when he said she should ditch her obligations to Rajah and Abu. And he had been right when he said that Damir was a servant of Aladdin before he was her friend…

Damir… Servant… Servants were prisoners of another's will, weren't they? Damir needed freedom too, didn't he? And he _had _been a good friend to her…

"What is your wish?" Aisha felt an immense pressure on her mind, pressing harder and harder. She couldn't see anymore- just the glowing red lights of Jafar's staff. She felt her lips move against her will and vaguely heard her croaky voice speaking as if from a distance: "I wish… you…"

The words petered out and died in her throat. Damir came first. Even if he had abandoned her, he had been kind to her and his intentions were good. With an enormous amount of concentration she forced her tongue to move differently and rearranged the words on her lips: "I wish… you… to free… Damir from servitude."

The pressure threatened to break her skull. She heard a deafening roar and clapped her hands over her ears, but still the furious sound persisted. Everything around her dissolved in a wash of red and black and a terrible wrath bore down on her and everything was going wrong-

It stopped. She sat up slowly (she hadn't realized she had fallen) and took a groggy look around. Everything was as it should be. Jafar stood before her, hands folded over each other and looking down at her serenely with that knowing smile of his playing on his thin lips. Iago the parrot glared at her for a second but looked away innocently just as quickly. She must have imagined it.

"Are you alright, Master?" Jafar asked delicately. "You simply collapsed."

_No, I didn't. You were angry. _

The words never made it to her throat. She couldn't speak. It was as if her tongue was made of lead. She just slowly shook her head… But as Jafar stared at her, her head began to move in a nod instead. She tried to resist, but the effort exhausted her. She slumped on the floor and silence fell.

"Is Damir free?" she asked hoarsely after a few minutes.

Jafar flicked lint off his shoulder. "The boy is free," he confirmed. "I believe he is on his way back to Cairo." His eyes met hers again, and she saw the reflection of her slack, surprised face in them. "Do not look so sad," he said in his soft, lilting voice. His staff hummed in his hand. "He was always going to leave you. Remember that night on the rooftop, when he said he would always return back to Cairo one day?"

Aisha struggled to remember, but even as he spoke the memory formulated in her mind. She couldn't remember what became before or after, but she did remember him saying that. A solitary tear slid down her cheek, but no more followed.

"You have one more wish left," Jafar continued casually, examining his nails. "What are you going to do with it?"

_Free you_. The idea popped into her head with no apparent origin; it was almost as if it had formulated out of the mental mist that had descended in her mind. Appeared out of nowhere, but the more she concentrated on it the more natural and concrete it seemed. And of course it was the right thing to do. It was a good thing.

_But he is a bad man_. Dimly Aisha remembered the childhood filled with stories of Aladdin's adventures and the genies that played a role in them- good and bad. Jafar was the bad guy. Wasn't he? Even as she thought about it, it seemed wrong, but part of her clung onto it, and unbidden Aladdin's voice wandered into her head: _And then he turned into a giant snake and tried to kill me- again!_

"What will you do with your freedom?" Aisha asked slowly. Jafar seemed startled by the question, but recovered himself quickly.

"Why, see the world," he said. "I have been trapped in that Cave for far too long. I wish to see what has changed."

"You're not… angry?"

Jafar reeled back in surprise that didn't seem true to Aisha. "Angry? Who on earth would I have to be angry at?"

"Aladdin. He trapped you."

Jafar laughed and flapped his hand. "Oh, my dear! That was all part of a _game_. No hard feelings!"

"So trying to kill him was all part of a game."

Jafar stopped dead in his tracks and glared. The staff glowed in his fist. "What do you know about that?"

"Aladdin told me-"

"He is a liar!" Jafar roared. He saw Aisha's alarmed face and his expression softened. "That is to say, he is a rich liar, is he not? He painted himself in a good light to make himself seem more impressive to you. He was _lying_, my poor dear, as he has lied to you since you knew him. I merely wanted the lamp for research purposes. I could not save him before he fell in the collapsing Cave and he held it against me as though I had done something terribly wrong! I knew he was a thief- I only wanted the _best _for Jasmine by trying to get him out of the way. Of course, I ordered it to be done in a humane way but I'm afraid the guards were a little exuberant. Aladdin tricked me with words- he is rather good with them, I think you'll find- into wishing myself into becoming a genie once I got hold of the lamp. He trapped me for no reason! He is a horrible man, Aisha. And his wife was a good woman, once. He corrupted her. He lured her in and changed her- for the very worst, I'm afraid. He will corrupt you too if you are not careful."

Of course. How could Aisha have missed it? Aladdin was no better than the other rich men… And it made sense that Abu would take anything gold and shiny without cause… And Aladdin had always been a bad man, stealing and lying and using other people to his advantage… Street scum like him didn't deserve someone like Jasmine… She should be with Jafar. He was a good man.

"They are trying to replace you, you know." Jafar added. "With their own child. A _better _child. They became bored with you. And when they found out you were a thief too… Well, I'm afraid they just didn't think you were good enough anymore! They are going to raise their own perfect child, and what will happen to you? You will be left behind. And forgotten. They will forget you, just as Damir forgot you."

He was right. How had she missed it? All her life she had listened in on hushed conversations between Aladdin and Jasmine on that very subject. How could they? Lure in a poor street girl and trick her into thinking they loved her and then just replace her with the next model? Anger filled Aisha's heart. There was no way she could let them get away with that. They would not forget her. She would not be left behind again.

They would pay for wronging her.

"Jafar," she said hoarsely. "My third and final wish…"

"Yes?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward, eyes shining.

Aisha stared blankly at the ground. Her lips moved without her full consent. "Get revenge on Aladdin and Jasmine."


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Hello everyone~ Slightly overdue but I just thought I'd let you all know that for English we had to present a persuasive oral on a movie of our choice and explain what the main theme was and why. I chose to do **_**Aladdin **_**and how lies and deception is part of the main theme and I got an A+! Which is pretty damn incredible seeing as I usually do really badly in orals :/ So yes. Just in case you wanted to know :P**

Aladdin rubbed his face and squared his shoulders. Now or never, as they saying went. He _had _to tell her. It was better to hurt her now than to not say anything at all and ruin a child's life. There was no way Jasmine would be happy if their child wasn't. Besides, he didn't even know how she'd react! Maybe she'd just be calm about it. Maybe they could talk about it and figure out some other course of action.

Yeah, right.

Still. He had to do it. Lying to Jasmine had never ended very well for him. He had to tell her now, before it was too late.

She was sitting on the balcony overlooking the city. In the few hours since he had woken her, he had already seen some colour return to her face and some meat to her bones where she had actually eaten. From here he could hear the low murmurs of her excited voice mumbling away to Rajah as she stroked his head. He was getting old, that tiger, but Jasmine's affections for him certainly hadn't faded. For a moment Aladdin faltered; she looked so happy now, he couldn't bring himself to shatter this rare moment of serenity.

But he had to.

"Jasmine," he called. She turned and her eyes brightened when she saw him. She shot to her feet and Rajah followed suit slowly.

"Aladdin, I have the most wonderful news-" she began, dancing over to him.

"Jasmine, I have something to tell you," Aladdin interrupted with a sigh. He couldn't let her get carried away. Not yet. If she started talking there was no way he'd be able to get a word in edgeways.

Jasmine's big almond-shaped eyes blinked up at him and he swallowed. Even after all their years together, those eyes had never failed to make him forget his words and lose his train of thought. "What is it?" she asked, eyebrows daintily furrowed when she noticed the discomfort in his eyes. Her hand rested softly on his arm, his at her waist.

Aladdin closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Jasmine, I-"

"Sultan!"

Aladdin and Jasmine whirled as one to see Jajim and two younger soldiers standing in the doorway looking suitably dishevelled. Jajim's turban sat lopsidedly on his head and his eyes were wild.

"Forgive me for the interruption, my lord," he panted, dropping into a hasty bow. "But it is the street rat-"

"Aisha?" Aladdin and Jasmine said in unison, eyebrows furrowed. Aladdin hadn't even known that Aisha was awake…

"She…" Jajim swallowed. "She's uprooted the fountain, my lord. And thrown it across the courtyard."

Aladdin's eyebrows furrowed as he stepped forward, unconsciously brushing Jasmine out of the way. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "That's impossible."

"I saw it, sir," one of the other soldiers piped in. "With my own eyes."

"This is ridiculous," Aladdin muttered, moving past them and striding down the corridor down to the courtyard. Jajim and his soldiers formed a protective triangle around him as he moved. He would have heard it if such a thing had occurred… Wouldn't he? The courtyard was on the other side of the palace, and he had been rather absorbed in his own thoughts as of late. He heard Jasmine jogging behind him to catch up, and felt her hand on his elbow and those eyes boring into the side of his head, shining with concern.

"You don't think it's true, do you?" she said quietly.

"Of course I don't," Aladdin replied. "Aisha's unpredictable, sure, but no-one's _that _strong."

Jasmine chewed her lip but said nothing.

The group entered the sun of the courtyard, and sure enough there was a hole in the dry ground where the fountain had once been and a heap of rubble on the other side of the courtyard. Precious water leaked across the dirt, but otherwise there was no movement. Rajah loped in, slightly out of breath from the long walk, and Abu swung out onto Aladdin's shoulder, eyes squinted as he scanned the courtyard. Genie's big blue head poked out from around a corner and one of Carpet's corners emerged as well, holding a small wooden chess piece in its tassels. This was dropped, when Genie alerted it to the damage that had been caused.

But other than the strange party, there was no-one else in the courtyard.

"What-?"

First came the deafening rumble, then the shaking of the ground, then the ominous movement of the toppling shadow. Aladdin instinctively pushed Jasmine out of the way of the oncoming danger and leapt after her, Abu shrieking in his ear as they skidded across the dirt. The ground shook violently and chunks of plaster flew in all directions. Blinded by the cloud of dust caused by the falling tower, Aladdin staggered to his feet and waved his arm in front of his face, coughing as he made an effort to make something out in the floating dirt.

It cleared quickly, though, and Aladdin could see that thankfully no-one had been hurt. What had caused the collapse, though? Squinting against the sun Aladdin raised his eyes to the rooftops and saw a familiar silhouette standing on a remaining chunk of roof. With a shrill, well-practised whistle and a sense of foreboding rising in his stomach, Aladdin took a running start and leapt onto Carpet, steering him up to the rooftops where Aisha stood.

It had been so long since he had found the time to fly! His arms moved without command of his brain and when his brown arm extended to scoop Aisha up-

What-?

_Thwump._

For a second Aladdin lay dazed on the roof, staring blankly up at Aisha's face. His back ached from the impact of being yanked off Carpet and onto the roof and his chest heaved to regain the air that had been knocked from his lungs. It was as he gazed up into Aisha's face that he realized that there was definitely something wrong: her face was so devoid of emotion, it just wasn't natural, and not just for Aisha. Any expressionlessness on anyone at that level just wasn't healthy. Her head moved painstakingly slowly as she looked down at him…

And she smiled a very strange smile.

A smile full of hatred and malice. Aladdin's head was still spinning as her arm speared down and her fingers wrapped around his shirt and held him up over her head. He stared down at her blankly. How was she doing that? How was it even _possible_?

"We meet again, street rat," she smiled venomously in a voice that wasn't hers. A voice that was terribly, terribly familiar.

With a careless flick of her arm, Aisha flung Aladdin down from the roof and back down into the courtyard. Of course. She must have gone back and fetched Jafar's lamp once he tossed it out of the window. How could he have been so careless?

Aladdin's body was racked with pain when he hit the ground. He felt himself slide across the dirt and heard Jasmine's strangled cry, her footsteps as she ran over to him over the rubble and destruction. She felt his hands on his shoulder, rolling him over, and saw her face against the desert sky, eyes filled with tears of fear.

"Jafar," Aladdin wheezed weakly and craned his neck to see back onto the rooftop.

Sure enough, there he stood, no different from the day Aladdin had tricked him into his own lamp, Iago still perched on his shoulder, staff intact. Aisha stood beside him, meek and obedient. With a cackling laugh Jafar swung his staff around, pointing it directly at where Aladdin and Jasmine were. Aladdin tried to push Jasmine away once more, but he moved too slowly and in the blink of an eye they were curled up inside an over-sized hourglass. This time around the sand trickled in slowly and the air was already stale.

Aladdin hauled himself to his feet, taking short, sharp breaths. Through the glass, he could see Rajah being transformed back into a cub and he and Abu being tied to a tree by Carpet, who was thrown off course as it zoomed towards Jafar. Jajim and his soldiers were blasted back and as Genie swarmed forward with his arms waving around wildly and mouth open in a silent scream (they could hear nothing within their shell) Jafar just laughed in his face and encased him in a glass ball, much too small for him, that fell to the ground with a heavy _clunk _and rolled to rest next to Aladdin and Jasmine's hourglass.

Still laughing madly, Jafar brandished his staff. The skies turned black and a terrific wind pounded against the palace. Shards of plaster flew in all directions-

Jasmine sagged against him. Alarmed, his head snapped around and he saw that she was unconscious, barely breathing as she slid down into the thin layer of sand that had accumulated on the floor of their hourglass. There wasn't enough air. They wouldn't survive. Aladdin moved towards her weakly, already feeling light-headed from lack of air, nursing her head on his lap and willing her to stay alive. She stirred lightly and her eyes opened enough for her to look at him hopelessly, forlornly. A single, rare tear escaped her eye and Aladdin wiped it away with a thumb, feeling as desolate as she did.

A movement from Genie's ball caught Aladdin's eye. He turned to him hopelessly, and followed with drowsy eyes as he pointed with a blue finger up at the rooftops once more. There Jafar stood, destroying everything and everything. There was Aisha, standing meekly and obediently, powerless to stop him. But… What was this? An indistinct shadow, creeping up over the wreckage and behind a preoccupied Jafar.

Aladdin watched in hopeful fascination as a skinny arm extended out, shakily and unsteadily at first and then moving quickly and lunging at Jafar's arm, jerking it at away from his next target. Caught off guard, Jafar whirled and a second arm flung out and the fingers wrapped around the staff, tearing it from the unprepared fingers of Jafar and smashing the cobra head against the roof.


	10. Chapter Nine

Aisha blinked and swayed where she stood. Where was she? What was happening? Her mind was mush and she could remember vague voices coming from blurry figures in a hazy mist, but that was just about it.

All too quickly she was dragged back to earth. A howling wind buffeted against her and threatened to throw her off the roof- the _roof_? Looking around wildly, she could see now that she was in the courtyard. Except the fountain had been uprooted and tossed across the courtyard and one of the towers had collapsed. And a tiger cub was tied against a tree with Abu by Carpet. And there was a giant hourglass with two barely conscious figures encased inside. And there was a big blue crystal ball next to it. And the sky was red.

"Move!"

And Damir was here. He barrelled her out of the way, and as they rolled across the roof a jet of red light blasted the place where they had been standing. Damir didn't stop moving: he dragged Aisha up by her wrist and clumsily ran across the roof, jumping down onto the rubble with an agility Aisha hadn't known he possessed. She followed him, stumbling and struggling to remember how she came to be in this mess.

As she ran, something cold and hard and solid bumped against her leg. Looking down she saw the sleek black lamp from the previous night hooked onto her belt. Her running slowed as she stared at it in horror. Now that she thought about it, she remembered going to fetch the lamp after Aladdin tossed it out of the window. But surely she hadn't been so stupid as to actually _rub _it…

Judging from this particular predicament, she supposed she had been. What had she done? Set a crazy genie on the loose and maybe even given him permission to hurt Aladdin and Jasmine. She turned and faced the courtyard once more, staring with wide, horrified eyes at the carnage she had caused. There was Jafar, exactly as Aladdin had described him, eyes burning as they destroyed everything and anything with jets of glowing light emitting from his fingers.

Aisha's heart stopped and her feet seemed to forget how to move when his eyes settled on her. She had to move, get away, but her mind had completely shut down.

Thin fingers wrapped around her wrist and jerked her out of the way as a colossal fireball came zooming down to meet her. The ground shook and her skin burned as it hit the ground where she had been standing, dumbstruck, not a moment earlier. Pressing her back against the pillar she had been pulled behind, she gasped down breaths and coughed back the smoke she swallowed. Her previously white clothes were now covered in soot and dirt and dust.

"Aisha. Aisha, look at me. Are you OK?"

Damir, ever the worrywart. She looked at him and stared in wonderment. "You came back," she replied numbly.

"Yes, I came," he breathed absently, checking her carefully for any injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"But why?" Aisha demanded, slapping his hands away. She could hear Jafar screaming in rage behind her, and Damir heard it too. He held a finger to his lips before darting out on his belly, pulling himself along the cracked floor with his hands. Aisha followed carefully, flinching when the pillar behind them exploded but saying nothing until they were safely behind a corner.

"Why did you come back?" she hissed, standing up again and looking at him demandingly. "You should be on your way to Cairo!"

"I was," Damir whispered back. "I was thrown out by a group of guards and tossed into some sort of slave traders caravan on its way back to Egypt. I was tied up and it took me a while but I got out and came back here."

"But _why_?" Aisha demanded. "You could have gone home."

Damir looked at her sheepishly. "Because if there's one thing Cairo doesn't have it's a stubborn, hot-headed, sarcastic princess who's bound to get herself into trouble one way or another," he whispered. "And it's just as well I did."

Aisha grinned and opened her mouth to say something back, but an explosion from around the corner reminded her of where she was. There would be plenty of time to say what was on her mind later- if there _was _a later. "What do we do now?" she whispered.

"You once told me that Genie told you the only way to kill a genie was to destroy its lamp," Damir whispered, craning his neck around the corner.

Aisha chewed her lip anxiously. "But the others-"

"You also told me that Genie told you that genies can't kill anyone," Damir interrupted before turning back to her. "They'll be fine. Let's go."

"Go where?" Aisha hissed at his retreating back.

"The kitchens," Damir replied over his shoulder. "We can toss it in the oven."

Aisha stood there, dazed for a few moments, before kicking into action and trotting after him. As they journeyed deeper into the palace, and then downstairs to the kitchen, the sounds of fury and destruction faded but did not altogether disappear. The sounds served as a chilling reminder of what would happen to them if they didn't get a move on.

As they descended into one of the last few corridors, the floor shook and plaster dust fell from the roof. Aisha froze and shared a foreboding glance with Damir, who chewed his lip and glanced back up the stairs.

"I think it was just-"

All at once the stairs collapsed. Dust filled the air and stone blocks and chips flew in all directions. The dust seeped into Aisha's eyes and tears were brought forth as she coughed up the dust in her lungs, searching madly for Damir, calling his name out again and again to no avail…

"I'm here." His voice in her ear. She jumped and smothered a shriek, turning to see him covered in powder that made him look pale white save for the trickle of blood running down the side of his face. "Keep your voice down," he whispered. "We don't want him to find us."

Aisha nodded fearfully as Damir confirmed her thoughts: Jafar was on their trail. Trying to take deep breaths without making a sound, she followed Damir as they slowly, carefully picked their way through debris, blinded by dust and ears peeled keenly for any sound that would reach them.

All of a sudden the dust cleared and Damir and Aisha were hidden in a long black shadow. The turned in fearful unison and saw a hulking red mass standing over them, yellow eyes blazing with fury and supernatural muscles bulging. Jafar snarled through his sharp teeth and raised a giant hand-

"Run!" Damir roared, and Aisha needed no further encouragement. She set off, scrambling madly across the debris, not leaving any time to stop or think or turn away. As her heart pumped the adrenaline through her body, she began to feel herself relax: she was in her element, now. Running through the urban obstacle course with little or no light with the soldiers hot on her heels, thirsty for blood. She leapt over the fallen plaster chunks, eyes fixed on the clear corridor ahead and the kitchen door at the end of it. The lamp bounced against her leg, now burning hot through her clothes.

She and Damir cleared the fallen chunks together. Damir was breathing raggedly and stumbled as he ran, but he was as determined as she was. His head wound worried her, but there was no time to fix it: they still had a good way to go until the kitchen door and Jafar-

"Meddling street rat!" Jafar's voice deafened her and she could swear a massive gob of boiling spit melted a hole through the wall to her left.

There was no time to investigate, though, because at that moment Damir appeared from nowhere and barrelled her into the wall. Her right shoulder smashed against the wall first; caught off guard, she sank to the floor, back scraping the wall painfully. Her lungs burned and her chest heaved, and Damir-

Where was Damir? There was a big black scorch mark on the floor where Damir had pushed her away… Away from what?

A rustling near her foot caused her to scream. She looked down and saw a light brown rat with dark eyes covered in white powder with small wound on the side of its head…

_Street rat, _Aisha realised, scooping the terrified rat into her hands gently. _Very funny._

"You will not best me!" Jafar screeched from overhead. Aisha snapped back to earth: she had forgotten about the impending doom pressing down on her. "You are in too deep, street rat!"

Before Aisha could even think of a plan a thick, black smoke enveloped her, sneaking into her mouth and her ears and making her eyes water. It moved around her quickly like a whirlwind until she couldn't even see her feet in front of her.

It was all she could do to hold Damir the rat close the curl up into a ball as she awaited whatever fate Jafar had planned out for her.

**A/N: And that, my friends, brings us to the end of Part 1. The beginning of Part 2 probably won't be up until after Christmas, a holiday I hope you all enjoy :D**


	11. Part Two Chapter Ten

The sounds from the street roused Ama to her feet. Scrambling towards the hole in her wall that served as a window she pushed the tattered cloth aside and scanned the streets below. A spiteful smile crept up her face when she saw the cage gleaming in the unbearable desert sun and the crowds gathering around it. She lingered for a few moments longer before tearing away, letting the cloth fall back over the hole carelessly. The chipped bowl she used for whatever food she could scrape up was empty; no matter. She would make do, somehow. And she could steal some more later, anyway.

"Come on, Dami!" she cried as she stumbled down the rugged steps, dodging the fallen beams. With a resigned squeak, a small dark shape came flying through the air and landed on Ama's shoulder, small claws digging into her clothes. Dami's small, pink nose sniffed at the air as Ama ran, the open wound on the side of his small, furry head blazing red against his dark fur.

Ama emerged into the street and pulled her shawl down over her face, taking short, sharp steps as she moved through the dusty, deserted alleys. You never saw too many people milling around in Agrabah these days. Not since the Sultan was overthrown. The sullenness that had descended upon the city was the only negative thing about Sultan Aladdin being overthrown and Jafar taking his place, as far as Ama was concerned.

It was a guarantee, however, that the people would always emerge when the golden cage was wheeled out and the old tiger and the mangy monkey were wheeled out. It was the Sultan's way of keeping the people docile: when he had first risen to power, furious townspeople had managed to scale the walls and made attempts on the royal family's lives. By releasing the two pets of the former Sultan and his wife every so often the people could release their anger at the royal family without hurting anyone. Anyone that _mattered_, at any rate. Ama only remembered vague snatches of memory from her previous life in the palace- memories that always scampered away whenever she concentrated on them- but she remembered the day Aladdin and Jasmine had their very own child, the day Ama became second-best, the day they tossed her back to the streets without a second glance with terrific clarity. The years following this were just as hazy as her palace days, and while she did not remember the day Jafar came to sit on the throne or how it even happened she knew it had been this way for a very long time.

Ama cursed under her breath as she reached the cage. The crowd was already quite thick and it would be near impossible to get as close to the cage as she would like. Standing on tip-toe and craning her neck, with Dami squeaking in quiet distress on her shoulder as he rocked back and forth, Ama tried to snatch a glance but to no avail.

"Looks like we'll have to give it a miss today, Dami," she murmured absently. Unsurprisingly, Dami didn't seem too unhappy about it. He had never been that enthusiastic about Ama's insistence to get her own personal revenge on the two animals. Ama assumed it was because he, too, was an animal. She turned to go-

"Where do you think _you're _going?"

And walked straight into the barrel chest of a very large man with a murderous glint in his eye and flanked by four more. He grabbed her arm with a terrifyingly tight grip and jerked her away from the crowds. Dami held on for dear life, claws digging into the inside of the shawl wrapped loosely around her head as she was thrown around.

"You'd better be able to pay up, Aisha," the man snarled. "Did you really think you could just walk out on us like that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ama grunted, tugging at her wrist in vain. "My name's not Aisha, you've got the wrong person-"

"Pay up or lose the hand," the man growled, brandishing a shiny sword over his head. "That is the penalty for thieves, is it not?"

Without further ado and not leaving any time to think, Ama darted forward and sank her teeth into the man's hairy arm, chomping down as hard as she could. With a strangled yell of surprise the man let go and Ama tore off into the depths of the crowd, jostling furious townspeople aside and shoving her way to the front. She spared time for a single glance over her shoulder and saw the man's hulking form looming over the crowd, looking around wildly for her. Ducking her head and stooping in the crowd, Ama persevered (with Dami now safely nestled in her hair) until her hands were wrapped around the cage and the weight of the crowd pressed her against the bars.

The monkey's fur was clogged with bits of old fruit and his tiny fez sat lopsidedly on his head. He looked up resignedly and his big eyes appraised Ama- and then, were it possible, they became even bigger. Filled with new energy, he began squawking and jumping up and down, pointing madly at her and tugging on the tiger's tail. Ama stared in mystification as Dami poked his nose out to see what the fuss was all about. Upon seeing the manic monkey's insane reaction he, too, began squeaking madly.

The monkey turned around then and its tail began scrawling out a hasty message in very messy Arabic:

_to aisha al jas need help now jafar bad hurt_

Before the monkey could finish the cage jerked and his tail slipped in the dirt, erasing the next word he had intended on writing. Ama leapt back as the cage was pulled away, followed by the angry cries of the townspeople. Eyebrows furrowed and utterly confused, Ama turned and, keeping to the shadows, made her way home.

xXx

"What a strange day it's been," Ama sighed as she laid back in her makeshift bed, folding one arm behind her head and tossing an apple up and down in her hand. Dami gave a little rat sigh as he curled up in his own little straw bed. "First those guys near the cage, then the monkey. I wonder who this Aisha girl is? You'd think I would have seen her before, especially considering that she obviously must look a lot like me. Maybe she's Aladdin and Jasmine's kid? I never met him- What are you doing?"

Dami had crawled down from his bed and, following the damned monkey's lead, had scrawled a messy message in shaky Arabic in the dirt.

"I didn't know you could read," Ama said as she sat up curiously. Her eyebrows furrowed and her head tipped to one side as she read the words:

_You. _

"Me? What do you mean, 'you'?"

With a movement that almost looked as though he was rolling his eyes (Dami, it would appear, was more intelligent than the average rat) before drawing in a few more characters in front of the 'you'.

_Aisha is you._

"What do you mean, I'm Aisha?" Ama demanded. "I'm Ama. You know that."

But Dami just shook his head and stood firm next to his messy little sentence.

"Alright then, assuming I _am _this Aisha person," Ama said, sitting back and folding her arms, apple forgotten. "How is that even possible?"

_Jafar. Spell._

Ama's eyebrow lifted. "Oh-kaaay then, who is Aisha?"

_Princess._

Ama laughed and shook her head. "OK, so you're saying that Sultan Jafar somehow managed to put a 'spell' on me to make me think that I'm Ama when really I'm Princess Aisha."

Dami nodded.

"I've told you a thousand times!" Ama cried. "I _was _a princess, a long time ago, but then Aladdin and Jasmine had a child and they threw me out. There's no way Jafar could have put some kind of spell on me!"

_No child. All lie._

Ama shook her head and waved her hand at him dismissively, lying back down on her bed. "You're crazy, Dami," she said, spraying apple as she spoke. "You've been eating some weird stuff."

But Dami pressed on regardless: _Aladdin and Jasmine need help?_

Ama shrugged. "That's what the monkey said," she confirmed. "But it's not like I'm actually going to try. For one thing, it's impossible to get in, and for another, they deserve whatever they've got coming."

Again Dami shook his head. He was rather argumentative, for a rat. _Go help._

Ama snorted. "Why should I help them?" she demanded coldly. "They wouldn't do the same for me."

Dami began to write something, but apparently gave up on it and wiped it away with a swishing motion of his tale. Instead, he wrote: _Prove you're better._

Now that made Ama pause. It was an interesting proposal: if she did somehow get into the palace and managed to save the former royal family, she would indeed be proving just how superior she was in terms of ethics and all that stuff. And they would be indebted to her. It definitely had its advantages. Food, shelter, reverence… From a street rat's point of view, that was pretty good.

"Alright, I'm in," she said after a few more moments of thought. She swallowed her last mouthful and tossed the core to Dami. "So what do you propose we do?"


	12. Chapter Eleven

A stooped, hooded figure approached the palace doors. Whoever it was trembled on their feet and every step seemed a tremendous effort. Jajim roused himself from his snooze against the wall and furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity, laying a precautious hand on the hilt of his sword and stepping forward. He could see the golden carriage holding the monkey and the tiger trundling from down the street in the fading light, but otherwise the street was empty.

"Who goes there?" Jajim called out. The figure stopped, saw him, and shuffled eagerly closer. This time Jajim retreated cautiously, drawing his sword in his hilt.

"Please, sir," a trembling, raspy voice wheezed from beneath a hood. The sound made Jajim shudder. "May I see the Sultan?"

Who was this? A foreigner? Had to be. No local would be stupid enough to ask for an audience with the Sultan. Even if you managed to get beyond the gates, most people would probably be reduced to trembling ashes of fear before the terrible man. "No. Go home."

"Please," the voice implored. A thin, trembling arm lifted and darted forward with surprising speed, gripping his uniform and pulling him so close he could smell the rancid breath emitting from the hood. The hands were filthy and mottled and flaky. "I hear he can cure lepers! Lepers like me!" Even as the stranger spoke, a rat darted out from their sleeve and sprinted up and down the bare arm.

A _leper_? With a wail Jajim tore himself away and without further ado bolted, away from his post, away from the leper. A leper! Allah help him. Was he infected now? Would he _die_? He was young, so young! What rotten luck, what a filthy individual.

What a terrible way to die.

Behind him, Ama pulled down her hood, smirked and shook her head before addressing the approaching cart- as well as the curious few who had taken to the streets to find the source of Jajim's cry. People including guards.

Dami safely tucked back into her sleeve, Ama sprinted down the street towards the carriage, throwing anyone who got in her way to the side and stooping to pick up a rock from the ground without breaking her pace. She slammed into the bars of the cage and began hammering away at the lock with her rock and luckily, before anyone could tear her away, it came free. She swung it open and, with a grand gesture, invited the tiger and the monkey out into the street (which they did with unlimited gusto). With a threatening growl the tiger fended off anyone who dared go near Ama and with hoots and screeches that sounded uncannily like laughter the monkey just caused general havoc while Ama slipped through the palace gates, unnoticed and unstoppable. She left the gates slightly ajar, in case she found herself in need of a quick getaway.

Glancing around with careful, thief's eyes, Ama surveyed the desolate courtyard. It had been quite grand, once upon a time, Ama could tell; it was big and wide and open and very nicely symmetrical. But now the grass was dead and any bird baths or pools were filled with black water and the insides of the walls were cracked and scorched. Eyebrows furrowed, Ama stood straight, pushing away from the door. It was like stepping into a whole new world, completely separate to Agrabah she knew so well. Dead and desolate and empty and silent. She felt horribly claustrophobic for a second and reached instinctively for furry, twitchy comfort from Dami, if only to remind herself that she wasn't completely alone.

_What's that?_

Ama flinched and cowered in the shadows, heart thumping as she listened. Even Dami's frantic breathing and constant squeaking fell silent in her ears as she waited… and waited… and waited…

There it was! Ama was sure of it this time. It was a scream. A man was screaming, somewhere. From her shoulder, Dami extended a shaky pink paw and pointed at a small, alley-like passage down the side of the castle. Thus far, the rat's judgement had proved to be correct so, taking a breath to calm herself Ama stepped out into the great haunted courtyard. She felt small and exposed as she scurried across the vast, open space, eyes flicking around nervously and moving quickly with hunched shoulders. There were no guards or security or anything. The eerie silence (save for the chilling screams piercing the air every few seconds) worried her, and she feared that at any moment a guard would pounce and cut her throat.

By some miracle, though, she managed to cross the courtyard and slide through the alley passage in one piece. She faltered in the small tunnel; once again, Dami had been right, and they had reached the source of the man's agonized screams. She still couldn't see anything, but she could hear him clearer than she could before. She could hear him gasping for breath and grunting between shrieks. She didn't want to go on. She wanted to go back to the lively streets with normal, relatively happy people, but she couldn't turn back now. Dami nibbling encouragingly at her earlobe, Ama took the last, final steps and peered around the corner.

It was another courtyard, smaller than the main one, but equally barren. In the centre a man dressed in torn harem pants and a shredded purple vest with a sad-looking red fez was chained into the dust at his wrists. His bare skin was covered in welts and boils and scars and open cuts, most of them imbedded with dust and flies. His torturer appeared to be invisible; wounds opened across his skin without apparent cause and he seemed to cry out for no reason.

And around him, the elite of Agrabah were gathered, watching with drawn, grim faces. At their head, a tall, thin, ugly man, dressed in the finest clothes Ama had ever seen with a golden staff fashioned like a cobra in his long, bony fingers. Beside him, a horrified young woman, chained to the ugly man with chains, not unlike the poor, tortured soul in the middle.

Ama stumbled back blindly, hand over her mouth. She was sick, she was going to be sick. Those rotten rich people, how could they just sit back and let this happen? Could they not see the barbarity of it? A poor man, tortured by invisible hands while his poor wife has to stand by and watch helplessly. Ama couldn't remember much, but she remembered their faces. And as unfair as Prince Aladdin and Princess Jasmine had been to her, they were still people.

"Behold!" The ugly man- the _Sultan_- cackled. He seemed to be the only one enjoying himself, at that moment. "The Street Prince, in all of his glory!"

"Hah! I've seen more glory in a drunk hippo!" The bird on his shoulder squawked. The rich of Agrabah laughed shakily, but the sound was drowned out by another of Aladdin's screams.

Jasmine lunged, grasping the thin arm that held the staff pleadingly. "Please, my lord," she begged. "Please leave him-"

"Get off, you stupid woman!" the Sultan snapped, shaking her off with an indifferent flick that sent her sprawling. As she lay in the dust, a protective hand fell on her bare belly.

"We have to do something," Ama whispered to Dami. An obvious thing, she knew, but she just couldn't think of anything to do. She would be struck down the moment she exposed herself. She needed a distraction-

A bundle of furry brute force knocked Aisha aside, and with a commanding roar the tiger leapt into the courtyard, pouncing into the crowd. Caught off guard, Jafar's grip on the staff loosened and Aladdin fell limp in the dust. The elite screamed and scattered and chaos ensued. Ama spared time for a shaky smile before picking herself up and moving out into the square-

Something was tugging on her skirts. Looking down, she saw the bedraggled but exhilarated monkey, jumping up and down and pointing and screeching back the way she had come. Looking at Dami, Ama waited for advice; the wise little rat nodded once and Ama gestured silently for the monkey to lead the way. He scampered down the alley as fast as his four legs would carry him, forcing Ama into a jog to keep up. Through the deserted courtyard, up the cracked steps, through the lacklustre palace. Down, into dank, winding corridors, where Ama's breath appeared before her in the form of billowing clouds (a sensation she had never experience before; she enjoyed it rather a lot). Finally, the monkey came to a stop in front of a faded bronze door. Pointing madly at the lock, the monkey watched Ama expectantly.

It took a while for her to figure it out. Fishing the rock out of her pocket, she hesitantly moved to the door and then began hacking at the door handle until it came away and the door swung open.

Shoving two hairy fingers in his mouth, the monkey whistled loudly (Ama didn't know monkeys could whistle) and all at once a faded old carpet came zooming through the air towards them. Not leaving any time to explain, the carpet knocked Ama off her feet and used its tassels to scoop up the monkey as well and swooped up through the corridors at such a speed Ama's eyes began to water. She grasped blindly at tassels, and as soon as her fingers became entwined with the worn strips of fabric she felt as though she was right at home. She steered the carpet with an expertise she didn't know she had. Perhaps she had flown the thing before, when she had lived here as a child. She couldn't remember anything about a flying carpet, though…

They emerged back into the sunlight again and zoomed right into the courtyard, where the tiger was still happily creating utter havoc. With roars of anger and frustration Jafar tossed random bolts all around the courtyard (explaining the scorch marks) and by sheer luck shattered Aladdin's chains. Ama jerked the carpet towards him; they dived down, and Ama yanked him up with little effort (he weight alarmingly little, for a man of his age). He sat there limply for a few seconds as they rose over the palace walls, but eventually seemed to summon the strength to look into his saviour's face.

"Aisha!" he gasped. "You came!"

Ama didn't look at him, keeping her stony gaze fixed on the ground below. "My name isn't Aisha," she replied stiffly. "It's Ama."

"No, Jafar must have put a spell on you, I'm _certain_-"

"Well then you're wrong," Ama interrupted harshly. "I'm not Aisha. My name is Ama and I want very little to do with you."

"Then why did you save me?" He spoke challengingly.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Ama directed the carpet into a steep descent, aiming for an oasis not far out of the city. They reached ground level quickly and Ama quickly rid herself of Aladdin and his monkey, who stood there staring at her dumbly like pelicans in the desert.

"What?" she snapped, floating in the air impatiently.

Aladdin stared for a few moment's longer before finally nodding formally. "Thank you."

Ama didn't reply, directing the carpet back to the palace- but for what, she didn't know.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Ama saw the palace long before she reached it. It was barely recognizable: the roof of the main tower, the tall one that stood out from the others, was torn apart; the smaller ones around it were little more than piles of rubble. As she drew closer she saw cracks in the walls and curious crowds converging at the foot of the towering walls. She soared silently over them all, hands trembling as she gripped the carpet's tassels. She could feel Dami shaking on her shoulder and felt the carpet quivering beneath her knees. They all hid it well, but there was no denying it: they were terrified.

Lips pressed together in a grim slash, Ama steered the carpet high over the palace, surveying the damage from above. All of the walls and columns were collapsed or their roofs had been torn apart, leaving them bare to the desert sky. Small fires flickered half-heartedly beneath piles of rubble, injured servants lay moaning, scattered around the wreckage. Through one of the holes in the roof of the main tower, Ama saw a jet of burning light; that was where she had to go. Muttering a quick prayer to Allah, Ama squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and directed the carpet down through the hole. She felt resistance, at first; she pushed, and the poor rug relented. They gently wove down through the air, until Ama's fingers brushed against the warm roof. Craning her neck, she could see down into the grand room below.

Parts of it, anyway. And by some piece of rotten luck, the only part of the room she could clearly see was the part where Jasmine kneeled, doubled over and cowering. Screams of rage shook the building and random bursts of light punched holes in the walls. She could vaguely hear muffled sobs from Jasmine's huddled form, but any pleads for mercy she made were drowned out by a furious scream:

"HOW DARE YOU!" Jafar, wielding his power relentlessly and dangerously. A bolt of lightning whizzed through the hole beside Ama; she flinched away, eyes wide and chest heaving with startled gasps. Her heart thudded in her chest as she slowly turned her eyes back to the destructive scene below. "WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?"

She couldn't hear Jasmine's response- she was so small and insignificant and far below- but even so Ama's ears strained and she leaned forward eagerly, trying to catch a snatch of what the poor woman had to say.

"YOU FILTHY WHORE!" Jafar shrieked, and Ama paused. Had she somehow snuck out and found someone else? It was the sort of palace gossip people used to live on, before Jafar took over. "YOU LYING FORNICATOR!" Ah. So there was a man involved. "YOU AND THAT STREET RAT BELONG IN THE SEWERS!"

Ama's eyes widened and she stared in disbelief. Street rat? Surely not. It wasn't possible! How could she have gotten to Aladdin? He was locked up, the entire time.

Jasmine lifted her head, and even from up here Ama could see her red, teary eyes and her tear-streaked, desperate face. Despite her better judgement she felt a pang and bit her lip. Even as she watched, however, the pitiful expression changed to defiant anger and Ama felt a strange feeling swell in her chest, almost like pride. "It was before you took over, you foul cockroach!" she shrieked furiously. "Before a loathsome snake was on the throne! You didn't, and still don't, have any right to hurt me or my husband or my baby, you monster!"

Ama's heart flipped over in her throat. Baby? Jasmine had managed to have a baby with Aladdin? But how? It had been years since Jafar had taken over, there was no way he couldn't have known about it… Right? Ama's thoughts turned back to Dami's impossible message from earlier that morning. Assuming, for a moment, that Jafar had somehow put a spell on her, he would have been able to trick her into thinking it had been years. In that case, how long had it really been? And was she really Aisha? The idea made her feel uncomfortable… It wasn't possible. She didn't want to be someone else, she liked being her, she liked being Ama-

With a startled shriek Ama was jerked back to the present when the carpet rose and dived through the hole, screaming down to Jasmine (who had now taken action and was hiding behind a pillar as Jafar screamed and made anything and everything explode). The speed made her eyes water and her shawl fall down from her head, flapping about at her neck. Forcing her arm forward through the air rushing past Ama reached down to Jasmine; their hands met and with an effort and some momentum Ama hauled Jasmine up. They climbed up once more, just as the pillar Jasmine had been hiding behind exploded.

"Aisha!" Jasmine gasped breathlessly as they burst out into the night air once more. "You're alive!"

"Yes, I am," Ama grunted, swivelling around to face the bruised and battered Jasmine. She was too confused to figure out the whole Aisha-Ama thing right now, let alone explain it. "And so are you. What do we do now?"

"The lamp," she said breathlessly. "We need to destroy it. It's the only way to destroy him."

"Well that's nice and all, but where is it?"

Jasmine's hand dived into her harem pants- Ama didn't know where to look- and then it emerged again with a small, sleek black lamp encased in her slender fingers. She smiled and for a moment energy seemed to zap through her worn face. For the briefest of seconds Ama let her eyes wander to her bare belly; sure enough, a tiny bump was barely visible. Many cuts and bruises were also visible. Ama hated to think of what might happen to that poor baby if this kind of treatment persisted.

"Well done," Ama congratulated her drily. "How do we destroy it?"

"How did you try to destroy it?" Jasmine shot back, eyes wide with confusion.

"I… ah, well, I-"

And at that moment Dami appeared, bounding down onto Jasmine's lap (she didn't even flinch) and slowly but urgently miming out a string of actions that apparently meant something to Jasmine, because she shook her head.

"It would be collapsed by now," she said heavily. "We need to think of something else."

Before Ama could ask, Dami mimed something else which, miraculously, Jasmine seemed to understand as well because she shook her head again. "We'd have to go through here which would probably give us away, and the corridors at least would be collapsed by now as well."

"What is? What's collapsed by now?" Ama wanted to know, scooping Dami back into her shawl protectively. He was her rat, she didn't like someone understanding him more than she did.

"The kitchens," Jasmine explained. "We could have thrown it into the oven. Or we could have gone to the treasury, freed Genie and used him."

"Well, we could always use on in a bakery or something-"

"HEY! UGLY! DOWN HERE!"

Jasmine and Ama looked down in unison: there, in the half-destroyed room below, was Aladdin. Bruised, battered and bloody, but standing, and with his monkey hooting and hopping up and down on his shoulder. Jasmine's face lit up.

"Aladdin!" she gasped. "He's alive!"

"Yes, yes, I'm alive, he's alive, you're alive," Ama grumbled. "We won't be for very long if we don't- hey!"

Once again the carpet lurched into independent action, soaring down to rescue Aladdin. With a great deal of effort, Ama managed to stop its descent and stop it in mid-air, just below the hole.

"Hey! He's obviously seen us and knows what we're trying to do. He's trying to distract Jafar so we can destroy him." Ama didn't quite know why she was talking to a rug, but it appeared to be listening. "We just have to trust he'll keep himself out of trouble."

Jasmine looked desperate. "But he's weak," she argued. "He won't be able to…"

"He'll have to," Ama replied stonily. "Unless…" She paused, considering it. It was crazy and it could well get her killed, but not if she timed it. She had a good eye. She was smart. She was a street rat. It was no different than snatching your hand out of the way of a shopkeeper's sword when you stole a handful of nuts. She could do it.

"No, never mind. I have an idea."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Ama helped Jasmine step daintily off the carpet, descending lightly onto the sand near the oasis. Night had now well and truly settled and Ama could barely see her face through the blackness, but she knew from the sniffles that she was teary. Ama rolled her eyes, jaw clenched. Allah save her from the weepy princess.

"Aisha…" Her weak, trembling voice, warbling falteringly from the darkness.

"I'm not Aisha," Ama mumbled half-heartedly. Even she was beginning to doubt herself now.

All of a sudden, Jasmine's warm, thin arms were around Ama's shoulders and she was suddenly enveloped in a tight embrace. "Please be careful," Jasmine whispered before letting go abruptly and pushing Carpet up into the air. Ama sailed away, head spinning and mind cloudy…

_No_. She couldn't afford to have a cloudy mind. Not just now. She needed total focus. She needed to be in her element.

Ama's hair whipped freely about her face; she had used the cloth to wrap the lamp up in. It was burning hot to the touch- probably a fail-safe of Jafar's- and she wondered how she was going to be able to hold on to it for very long in order for her plan to work. She could toss her shawl in there as well, but as tatty as it was she liked her shawl. It gave Dami a place to hide while still giving him a good view of the action- where he was now concealed in her sleeve, he saw nothing. If she had to, she would, but she would avoid it if she could.

Suddenly she realized what she was thinking and laughed aloud, the first time since she had seen the golden carriage that afternoon. Here she was, facing death at the hands of an insane magician, and she was worrying about her _shawl_. Gliding over the city she knew and loved, Ama laughed and although Dami must have thought her insane, it gave her a slight morale boost. She felt a little more confident, a little more light-hearted, and she knew an unfazed Ama was exactly what she would need to get Jafar's attention.

At her elbow Ama felt Dami's small form quivering fearfully. She patted his back absently. "We'll be OK," she murmured. "We'll be fine."

She was talking more to herself than anyone else.

They were drawing closer to the palace, and now the carpet and Dami were both shaking. A nervous shudder jolted up Ama's spine and butterflies began to blossom in her stomach. Taking in deep breaths and trying to lower her alarming heart rate, she gripped the carpet's tassels tighter and directed it towards the shattered dome.

She only hesitated for a moment this time, taking in the scene before her. Aladdin was trapped down there, dancing away from Jafar's destructive blasts but only barely. He was getting tired; he probably wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, and when he couldn't go on who knew what would happen?

With a last quick prayer to Allah- mostly asking him to forgive her of her many sins so she would have a very comfortable afterlife should this go wrong- Ama directed the carpet straight down through the hole and into the grand room- if you could still call it that. Much like Aladdin, it had taken so many blasts it was hanging on by the thinnest of all threads and probably ready to collapse with the next blast. Ama needed to act fast- if the blow she needed turned out to be the blow that would bring what was left of the roof down on her head there was no way that she and Aladdin would get out alive.

"OI! YOU! YOU DON'T SCARE ME, YOU GREAT BIG ANCIENT PILE OF SH-"

The carpet dived to one side as a bright blue bolt rushed past Ama's head. Heart thumping in her chest and Dami squealing in terror, Ama tried to act unfazed.

"Nah-hah, you missed me," she called tauntingly, poking her tongue out. Jafar's yellow eyes bored into her face and with a roar of recognition he tried to blast her out of the air once more. Ama manoeuvred the carpet into a very tricky loop, dancing out of harm's way once more.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Jafar spluttered. "YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!"

Ama grinned. "Looks like you're a big fat failure on that front, pal. Bet you can't catch me!"

The goading was all very well, but Ama could practically see the building trembling with every bolt she teased out of the enraged genie. She would have to act now before she was crushed.

Another explosion. The building trembled and Ama knew she could postpone it no longer. Heart clawing its way to her throat, butterflies going wild in her stomach, Ama turned to face the genie one last time.

"Face it, old man! You're never gonna catch me!" She wiggled her fingers at the side of her head, poked her tongue out and, although her instincts argued madly against it, squeezed her eyes shut. She felt Dami running up her arm to her shoulder and hoped he wouldn't look away out of fear. It was imperative that Jafar thought she would see nothing- which she wouldn't be able to, if Dami wasn't acting as her eyes.

She waited… Waited… She heard the sound of the spell forming at the head of the cobra staff and felt it come closer and closer, but she couldn't act. Dami would tell her when it was time. His timing had to be absolutely perfect, like Ama's aim. She couldn't miss. She had one chance, and one chance only…

Dami squeaked urgently in her ear and Ama's eyes flew open. She didn't look at the doom rushing up to meet her but instead shoved her arm down with lightning speed. She threw her shawl aside and grabbed the hot lamp in one deft movement; forcing herself to look up without seeing the crackling fireball coming straight for her she flung her arm out and at the last second let go of the lamp, ignoring the searing pain flaring in her palm and cringing away, holding her breath hopefully.

Nothing happened. She wasn't dead. Hardly daring to believe it, Ama cracked one eye open and slowly turned back to where her hand had been a moment ago. The fireball had frozen in mid-air, the lamp safely encased within it. The room had fallen eerily silent, with Aladdin and Ama looking on in wonderment and Jafar staring, slack-jawed, with shock. As she watched, Ama saw the lamp swell as though something inside was trying to get out. Just when she thought it was going to tear apart at the metallic seams, it exploded.

The force of the explosion threw Ama through the air like a toy. She held onto the carpet for dear life as they hurtled through the air; eventually the rug regained control and, lying flat on her stomach, Ama raised her head to watch what happened next.

Jafar seemed to have lost his voice. His mouth gaped and his eyes popped. His body fizzled and crackled with energy and he twitched spasmodically, apparently completely unaware of his surroundings. His staff shattered into two pieces that disintegrated into thin air. Like his lamp the genie seemed to swell and bulge to disproportionate sizes; Ama guessed what was coming next.

The air screamed in her ears as she raced down to rescue the exhausted Aladdin. She swung him back onto the carpet and directed it up into a steep climb, bursting through the hole just as Jafar exploded with only a powerful wind of light and gas to remember him by. The carpet and its passengers were shot forward through the skies, the force of the explosion expelling them far into the desert. Steadying the carpet with shaky hands, Ama raced back to the city, wondering what would happen now…

They dived through the hole in the roof just as it sealed itself. Touching down on the cracked floor with unsteady feet- it had been a while since she had actually walked- Ama watched in wonderment as every hole in the walls sealed itself, every crack swallowed itself up and disappeared. The room regained its shine, and outside the black clouds that had taken to hanging over the palace were sucked away. If Ama had been in the courtyard she would have witnessed every decorative feature put itself back together and the plants shoot up from the dirt. She heard another explosion from somewhere far away and a mighty whooping sound, followed by a loud whistling of air…

She was instantly on guard. Was it another attack? Had the townspeople broken through the walls? No. The grand doors were thrown back with and with a flourish a big blue man with a funny goatee burst in, all big white teeth and burly arms. Something in Ama's mind twinged at the sight of him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She remembered something Jasmine had said before… This must be the friendly genie she was talking about. The genie named Genie.

"Al!" he cried, zooming forward exuberantly and encasing Aladdin in what would have to be a bone-crushing hug. His voice was high and strangled with joy. "Al, you're alive! You did it!"

"It wasn't me," Aladdin wheezed, gesturing with his head at Ama. "It was Aisha."

"I'm not…" But as soon as Aladdin said the word 'Aisha', she suddenly felt dizzy and light-headed… She stumbled and fell onto the floor… Through blurry vision, she could see her filthy street clothes disintegrate and be replaced by expensive-looking white harem pants and a wide-neck, low cut white shirt with gold trim… Clothes she would never be able to afford…

Dami leapt off her now bare arm and skidded across the floor, apparently caught in the same daze. He squeaked once and in front of her eyes he suddenly became tall and his front legs became human arms and his tail disappeared and his fur became curly hair and his little whiskers were sucked back into his brown face. Dami the rat was now a boy.

Oh Allah. This was too much. What was going on? How was any of this… Any of this possible…

"Aisha?" The strange boy said. His brown eyes were wide with concern and his voice was hoarse from lack of use. "Are you alright?"

As soon as he said her name, the haze cleared. Aisha could see clearly again. She sat up straight, head swimming from confusion, but eventually she put the pieces together. The black smoke… It must have been a spell. Jafar must have given her a false memory of a fake life where she hated the royal family so she wouldn't interfere. Yes! She remembered now. Damir had been turned into a rat because he had taken the curse for her…

As if for the first time, Aisha saw Damir. He blinked innocently at her and with a sob Aisha flung her arms around his skinny neck and hugged him tight. He seemed stunned at first, patting her back with an awkward hand, and Aisha knew that she should say something but she just couldn't find any words.

He was alive. She was alive. They were all alive.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: 'NOTHER UPDATE :O For those of you who are reading my other stories you'll know that my e-mails currently aren't receiving any alert e-mails from this site, and if you don't well now you know so that works out rather well doesn't it? Anyway- thank you all for reading and reviewing and being patient, you're awesome :D**

Eventually, Aisha recovered enough to stand. Damir tried to follow her but his knees buckled and he collapsed: he wasn't yet accustomed to being back on two legs yet. Laughing giddily with relief, Aisha slung his arm around her shoulders and hauled him to his feet: together they hobbled across to where Aladdin was helping Jasmine step off the carpet (which must have made an unnoticed getaway to retrieve her from the oasis). Unlike Aisha and Damir their damage was not undone: they were still bruised and cut and limping but the way their faces lit up almost seemed to heal the wounds in a heartbeat. Aisha and Damir stopped, staying a respectful distance away from the reunion. Jasmine smiled and guided Aladdin's hand to her already swollen belly: Aisha could tell from the look on his face that he was terrified by the prospect of it, but she felt a hollow blow in her stomach anyway. Her worst fear, finally realized.

Genie ruined the sentimentality of the moment by swooping down upon them and encasing them in a crushing bear hug. Deciding it safe to proceed, Aisha and Damir resumed moving over, and when Genie caught sight of them they were not spared from his crushing blue arms.

"You did it!" He squealed. "You're the stupidest, most stubborn girl I've ever met but you did it!"

"Thanks, Genie," Aisha wheezed through constricted windpipes.

Suddenly she was dropped and Genie held Damir out at arm's length. The poor boy looked terrified. "And you! I don't even know you but I like you, and you make a very good rat."

"Um… thank you?"

Genie nudged the ribs Aisha massaged tenderly and leaned in conspiratorially. "But I don't suppose you'd much fancy dating a rat now would you?" His black eyebrows wriggled up and down teasingly.

Aisha shoved his head to the side playfully, and with a chuckle he set Damir back down. Aisha moved to offer him help, but he shook his head and, breathing deeply took a few unsteady steps. Aisha sensed eyes on her: she turned and saw Aladdin and Jasmine watching her, but not in the creepy or angry way. Leaving Genie to his teary ranting and Damir to his walking lessons, Aisha took a deep breath and walked over to them.

"I'm sorry," she blurted before either of them could speak. "This is all my fault, if I'd just listened to you this wouldn't have happened. And your baby…" She tried hard to keep the contempt from her voice when she said 'your baby', but she wasn't too sure that it worked.

They smiled creepily identical kind smiles. "It's OK," Aladdin said calmly. "It's not just your fault. If I had been a little less commanding you wouldn't have let him free. I'm working on it."

"And I'm sure the baby will be fine," Jasmine said, but Aisha could see the concern in her eyes. There was nothing for it, though, other than to wait.

Aisha wasn't very good at waiting.

Damir stood beside her now, and without thinking Aisha laced her fingers through his and squeezed. He seemed taken aback by the gesture, but eventually settled. It became awkward when Aisha stumbled as Damir tried to drop in an instinctive bow before Aladdin and Jasmine.

Aladdin laughed. "You're a friend, Damir. You helped save us all. Thank you."

Damir's cheeks flushed pink. "I- I really didn't do much, Your Highness-"

Aladdin wasn't having any of that. "Just call me Aladdin," he said, with a meaningful glance at Aisha. She noticed the gesture and appreciated it- he was shedding the pompous skins he had grown as Sultan for her.

Still. Changed Sultan or not, Aisha knew she couldn't stay. "You should announce the good news," she said, a plan already fully formed in her head. "I don't think the people will know who is on the throne now."

Aladdin swallowed and Jasmine mimicked Aisha's actions, interlocking her fingers with Aladdin comfortingly. "Come on." The princess' voice was soft as she gently lead her slightly shell shocked husband away, leaving only Aisha and Damir, standing side by side, with Genie and Carpet awkwardly sidling out of the room.

After a few beats of silence, Aisha nudged Damir's ribs with her elbow. "Pretty impressive, huh?" she grinned. She knew what she wanted to do and she knew that Damir couldn't follow her. She wanted their last conversation to be a good one. "Bet you didn't think I could pull that off."

Damir laughed. "All you had to do was wave your hands about," he pointed out. "If I can pull off being a convincing rat, I can do anything."

"Thanks for that, by the way. For taking the spell." Aisha planted a light kiss on his cheek- a kiss that meant thank you and goodbye. Taking advantage of his surprise, she darted off and went back up to her bedroom, where hopefully her old street clothes would still be waiting for her.

xXx

In the shadow of her tree, Aisha looked back for the last time at the palace balcony. It was almost out of sight, but she could hear the crowd still cheering at the top of their lungs, rejoicing in the news that Jafar was gone and the heir was of royal blood, not a street rat. Aisha had known how they felt about her from the start, but it didn't matter anymore. She knew that Aladdin and Jasmine's miracle baby would replace her as the heir, but it wasn't the throne she was worried about. She was leaving now, before she could be shown up and replaced by a _toddler_. It wasn't a question of power- just one of pride. Her clothes and topaz circlet were bundled up in her bag, and would probably buy her enough food for a while, maybe even some temporary shelter. Who knew, maybe she would take a camel train to Cairo, discover Damir's hometown. She was free now.

She felt bad about not saying goodbye, but she couldn't tell anyone that she was going. They would all try to stop her. As much as she loved everyone in the palace, she couldn't bring herself to stay. Staying here would drive her crazy. She had to leave now, while she still could.

Taking a deep breath- and her last behind palace walls- Aisha reached up and put her foot on the first branch. She put some pressure on and her other foot left the ground-

"Going somewhere?"

She nearly fell out of the tree, she was so surprised. She turned and saw Damir standing behind her, eyebrows raised questioningly. Aisha's heart plummeted and she stepped back onto the ground. She could have just ignored him and made a run for it, but he was fast and he probably would have caught her. She didn't have the heart to hit him again, not after everything he had done for her. He knew it, too.

"I can't stay," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"Why not?"

"Don't you remember what I said on the rooftop?" she asked, a little exasperatedly. "This is _exactly _what I never wanted to happen. And before you say anything about the throne, it's not that. I can't just… You wouldn't understand."

She turned away. Damir stepped forward.

"Help me to," he replied simply.

Aisha fell limp and leaned against the tree trunk. "Jafar tricked me into thinking that I had been replaced by a kid and booted out of the palace," she said quietly. "He saw it in me and used it against me. After seeing all that-"

"It won't happen again, you killed him." Damir's calmness annoyed her, but she restrained herself as he reached out imploringly.

She didn't take his outstretched hand. "But what if it _does_? What if they just kick me out, for real?"

"You know they never would."

"Only because they haven't had a child of their own! The only reason they took me in was because Jasmine wanted some kid to dote over, and I was just the first to wander into their midst. Can't you see how badly I've stuffed things up here? Their kid will be perfect, and a trouble-making thief will just ruin the picture. I'll be thrown back on the streets-"

"For all that you're clever called, you can be really stupid sometimes," Damir snapped. His tone cut her short. "They took you in because they liked you. Because you're witty and clever and loyal. If you were foul-mouthed and feral, they wouldn't have adopted you officially. Don't you get that they _like _you? They've known you longer than they've known that Jasmine's having a baby- just because you'll have a little brother or sister doesn't mean you won't matter anymore! Yeah, OK, you stuffed up, but you saved them, didn't you? Even though everything in you told you you shouldn't. They're good people and they owe you their lives. And if you try to go anywhere, I'm following."

"But they _won't _be my brother or sister! We won't even be related! What if the kid thinks I'm competition because I'm eighteen years older and tries to kill me off or something?"

"You're being stupid-"

"I'm just considering the possibilities! It's…" Aisha hesitated. "I don't want to admit it, but you're right." Damir beamed. "But it doesn't matter how right you are, because I'm going. Even if I'm welcome here I don't belong here. I should be out there, where I belong. I'm sorry."

She turned once more and began climbing. She was surprised, if not a little hurt, when Damir didn't try to restrain her. What did make her pause was another voice:

"It's a shame. We were kind of hoping you would fill the role of big sister."

Aisha froze, then very slowly descended and turned. Now she was facing both Damir and Aladdin, who was leaning casually against a pillar and examining his nails. He had been cleaned up, his bruises carefully hidden, for the ceremony, but Aisha knew he was tired.

"We asked everyone we knew, naturally, but we just couldn't find anyone suitable enough," he continued before straightening and shrugging, meandering off down the corridor. "But if you don't want to, it's fine."

Something about his tone made Aisha hesitate. She knew that she had to get out, that she would go crazy if she didn't, but there was something about his behaviour that drew her back. Like he was expecting her to just run out on them, like he was waiting for her to abandon all and any responsibility she held in the palace. She knew it was all a gimmick to make her stay, but somehow it worked. She began to see through a selfish haze, began to visualize staying here with Damir, taking care of the kid when it came. If things did go bad, she could run away then. But there was something in Damir's gaze, something in the way his hand had slipped into hers, that held her back.

Love for her improvised adopted family won over childish instinct. "I suppose I could teach the kid how to steal and stuff," she grumbled, just loud enough so Aladdin would be able to hear before he slipped away. Pulling her hood down, Aisha swaggered over to a smirking Damir and slid her hand into his once more. It was comforting. "Shut up," she muttered as his shoulders shook with laughter, shoving him aside good-naturedly. "I'll leave if I want to."

"I know you will," Damir chuckled as they wandered back down the corridor to join the royal family and their celebrations.


	16. Epilogue

The kitchen doors opened with an explosive bang. All activity stopped and heads turned, first to see who the evidently boisterous visitor was and then to the Egyptian runt, Damir, who had gotten such a fright at the sudden sound he had dropped the stack of plates he was holding. People rolled their eyes and muttered snidely to each other as Damir's face glowed bright pink and he doubled over to collect the pieces of his carnage.

"Yes, Princess?" The cook, Irrab, tried to sound as pleasant as possible as he addressed his boss. It was not exactly a secret that Irrab was notoriously bad-tempered, and even as he spoke to a frazzled-looking Princess Aisha his co-workers could hear the edge in his voice. It was alarming how much distaste he managed to squeeze out between his gritted teeth. Like a fair number of other Agrabah citizens, having a street rat as a princess didn't sit too well with Irrab.

Damir stood bolt upright again, looking around like a rabbit for his friend. Aisha ignored the cook and walked right in, scanning the kitchen as she moved in search of something. It could well have been another obscure food Jasmine had asked her- her cravings had become more violent as of late- but even so Damir moved to the sound of her bare feet slapping against the floor until-

"Dami!" Her brown eyes were wild and for the first time since Damir had met her her hair was bundled in a flyaway bun at the top of her head instead of in its usual plait.

"Aisha, what-?" They only had to lock eyes for a second for Damir to figure it out.

"Come on!" she squealed, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the kitchen, ignoring Irrab's loud, mostly rude protests. All sound from the kitchen slowly faded away as they turned corner after corner. Damir knew exactly where they were going, and why: at this moment, a new member of the royal family was being born in the royal chambers.

"Aisha, slow down!" he gasped, panting for air. She skidded to an abrupt halt and Damir almost crashed into her. She blinked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. He grabbed her shoulders- he had shot up in the last few months, and now stood a full head taller than Aisha- and shook her gently. "Tell me what's happened."

It came out in a bubbling flow of words that Damir couldn't make sense of until at least ten seconds after they were spoken. "She was looking for some more food because she said her stomach felt weird and she thought it was just hunger and she was walking around the palace trying to find a fruit bowl or something and then she just doubled over and by the time servant found her she was, like, hyperventilating on the floor and then they had to carry her up to the chamber and _I _had no idea until maybe ten minutes ago and I came looking for you which took _forever _because no-one knew where you were and by now I could have a baby sister, so come _on_!"

They both knew that biologically speaking the baby wouldn't be Aisha's sibling, and no-one knew for sure whether or not it was a boy or a girl but Aisha had been referring to the baby as 'she' for nine months and wouldn't hear otherwise. As to why Damir of all people was being dragged into this event was a mystery, but he guessed that Aisha was as nervous as she was excited. Her fears of being replaced and forgotten had not been washed away over the last nine months and as her only friend it was Damir's duty to be there for her. His job was to basically tell her that she was talking absolute camel spit but in a more reassuring way.

No matter how he put it, she never believed him.

He was quite out of breath by the time they reached the final corner before the royal chambers, but they were blocked off by two guards with nasty-looking swords that glinted in the sun that streamed in through the open windows.

"Let me through!" Aisha demanded, voice shrill.

"No can do, Princess," one of the guards said. "No-one except midwives until the baby's born."

Aisha uttered a quiet scream of outrage. "I'm the _princess_!" she shrieked, and Damir put a hand on her arm to remind her that she was being a whiny brat.

In a more reassuring way.

The guard shook his head stubbornly, and with an angry snort Aisha spun on her heel, marched to a nearby window and threw herself down upon it, tucking one knee to her chin and letting the other dangle. Damir made an apologetic face to the guards (they glared) before following her, squeezing himself in opposite her. It was a big window, but fitting two scrawny teenagers was still a challenge. Aisha was watching the city blankly- probably reminiscing her street days- and Damir followed her gaze awkwardly, seeing nothing but a dust-swept town stretching out for what looked like miles in every direction.

"It's really happening, isn't it?" she murmured, not taking her eyes from the horizon. Damir knew exactly where she was looking: out to Egypt. He had been given a brief reprieve from work a few months ago and had taken her back to his hometown for a week to relieve her of the stress that had built up inside of her since the baby was announced. She loved the place, and it had since become something of a symbol of freedom for her.

Damir shrugged, not sure of what to say. "I guess so," he said lamely. He looked at her profile. "Are you scared?"

Aisha shrugged too, but her eyes betrayed what lay beneath. "A little," she admitted, which, in girl speak, meant a whole lot.

Damir swung his legs around so his long brown toes were tapping the floor. He grinned sidelong at Aisha. "Well, you haven't left yet, even though you said you would. I'm guessing that's a good sign."

Aisha seemed to come back to life and poked her tongue out at him. "I'm only sticking around to teach him some rude words and how to steal," she said.

Damir stared. "You said 'him' that time."

"Well, duh. If it's a girl- which it is- I'll be teaching her how to do her hair and make jewellery and stuff."

"You don't even know how to make jewellery."

Aisha shrugged again, swinging her legs around so that they dangled over the edge, exposed to the sun. "I can learn."

Damir instantly sprang to attention, ready to grab her if she tried to jump. She would survive a fall from this height: he had seen her do it before. "Well, if that's the case-" He mimicked her actions so he was sitting beside her again. "-maybe you can learn how to groom a rat."

Aisha laughed and pushed his shoulder lightly. "You have a weird sense of humour," she told him.

Damir shrugged. "I know," he said easily before nodding at the door. "D'you know how long she's been in there?"

Aisha suddenly became sullen again. "A few hours, I think. Does it normally take this long?"

Damir was raised in a monastery. He had no idea. But he couldn't lie to Aisha, so he just looked at her and she sighed. Damir opened his mouth to say something comforting, but it was at that moment a woman with her hair pushed away from her face and dressed in a bloody grey dress appeared and her plump face crinkled in a smile. Aisha uttered a shriek and leapt from the window sill, grapping Damir's wrist again and wrenching him away from his perch. They passed through the guards unopposed and Aisha flew down the corridor to a room Damir hadn't been to before. The door was closed, but another woman dressed similarly to the other one but with a cloth tied around her face nodded and let them through. Much like she had in the kitchen, Aisha burst through with no consideration, and only seemed to realize how loud her entry was when she stood wildly in the doorway, Damir lingering awkwardly behind her.

Bloody bedsheets were being bundled up by women in grey with cloths around their faces. A clean bed was arranged nearby, and an exhausted looking Jasmine held a bundle of clean white sheets in her arms. Aladdin was by her side, and their eyes were locked adoringly on whatever Jasmine held in her thin brown arms. Damir saw Aisha stiffen and heard her take a composing breath before cautiously advancing, moving curiously closer. Damir padded along behind, unsure of whether or not he should help the women clean. He felt like an intruder.

Aisha craned her neck, trying to look beyond the blankets. Anxious as she seemed, she was still waiting to meet her new baby sibling. Aladdin noticed her, and smiled, and held a finger to his lips before looking back at the blankets. Aisha seemed to relax a little and walked over, standing at Aladdin's shoulder and peering in.

Even if she didn't react, Jasmine must have felt Aisha's presence somehow because she frowned. "We were wrong, Ai," she said, sounding troubled. "He's a boy."

Aisha's shoulders slumped and her eyebrows furrowed. "What? But we were so sure…"

Jasmine didn't seem to hear her. "I was going to name her Ama," she murmured, seemingly to herself.

Damir couldn't supress a grin as Aisha's cheeks flushed beet red. Aladdin's arms descended carefully and he scooped the little boy up in his arms, only holding him to his chest for a moment before offering him to Aisha. Her eyes widened and her arms were trembling as she held them up, accepting the weight of the baby in the blankets. Her face was wiped blank as she looked into his face, and she looked more relaxed than she had been in the last nine months.

Rocking the baby back and forth lightly, Aisha wandered over to Damir and stopped at his side, inviting him to look at her little brother. Damir could see already that he had Aladdin's nose and Jasmine's almond shaped eyes. There was a tuft of thick black hair sticking to the blankets, and his cheeks seemed bright pink against his dark skin. Damir unconsciously extended an arm and rubbed Aisha's waist, offering a kind of comfort she didn't need.

"What do we name him?" she asked, voice low to avoid waking the baby.

"Damir?" Aladdin suggested, and now it was Damir's turn to flush.

"Jabri," Aisha said suddenly, apparently oblivious to the other suggestion. Then she looked up, embarrassed. "Just a suggestion," she mumbled.

"Jabri," Jasmine repeated, lost in thought. She looked up at Aladdin, who moved closer. "What do you think? Jabri?"

Aladdin smiled at her, and then at Aisha. "I think it's perfect."

"Jabri," Aisha murmured, holding him carefully over her head. Damir heard Jasmine hiss in fear and prepared himself to catch the baby should he fall. "Hey, Jabri. You're gonna be a prince someday. You excited?"

Jabri the Prince woke then. He saw Aisha, and made a gurgling sound that Damir decided was a laugh. Aisha laughed then, too, and held him in her arms again, returning him to Jasmine's arms. She smiled in relief at having her long-awaited baby in her arms, and as Damir looked down into his little face he felt, for the first time, like he had a family.

**A/N: DONE! Sorry if the ending is kind of lame, I just wanted something from Damir's point of view like this… Thank you all for reading! Y'all amazing :P If you like **_**How To Train Your Dragon, Pirates of the Caribbean, Pandora Hearts, Harry Potter, The Hunger Games **_**or **_**Peter Pan **_**you should totally check out my other stuff. Just sayin'.**


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